Place, Race, and Religion in the Local Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender Community and Movement of Memphis, Tennessee

University of Mississippi eGrove

Electronic Theses and Dissertations Graduate School

2012

Amy Catherine Ulmer

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Recommended Citation Ulmer, Amy Catherine, "Place, Race, and Religion in the Local Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender Community and Movement of Memphis, Tennessee" (2012). Electronic Theses and Dissertations. 289. https://egrove.olemiss.edu/etd/289

This Thesis is brought to you for free and open access by the Graduate School at eGrove. It has been accepted for inclusion in Electronic Theses and Dissertations by an authorized administrator of eGrove. For more information, please contact [email protected]. PLACE, RACE, AND RELIGION IN THE LOCAL LESBIAN, GAY, BISEXUAL,

TRANSGENDER COMMUNITY AND MOVEMENT IN MEMPHIS

A Thesis presented in partial fulfillment of requirements for the degree of Master of Arts in the Department of Southern Studies The University of Mississippi

AMY C. ULMER

May 2012

ABSTRACT

This study observes the role of place in the local LGBT community and movement of

Memphis, Tennessee. I gathered information from fifteen interviews, including LGBT

Memphians, activists, preachers, and public figures to show what aspects of place have been the most significant in shaping the nature of the local movement, which has been growing since the early 2000s. I suggest that the conservatism, race, and religiosity of Memphis have played the most significant role. The first chapter demonstrates how LGBTs operate within a city that maintains pockets of openness, but remains largely LGBT-unfriendly according to interviewees.

The second chapter observes the role of race and Memphis’ history of racial division and how those factors influence the African American LGBT community and LGBT community as a whole. The final chapter demonstrates the intersections of activism and conservatism with regard to church involvement in the local movement. I show that place shapes the identity negotiations

LGBT Memphians make in their daily lives, their political interests, and the movement’s goals and strategies. I also demonstrate that racial division continues to plague Memphis and also divides the LGBT community, as LGBT issues live differently in black and white communities.

Finally, I show how LGBT friendly churches in Memphis have functioned as a force of social change within the local movement, alleviating racial division, supporting the LGBT community, and helping to spread a Christian message of equality.

LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS

MGLCC Memphis Gay and Lesbian Community Center

TEP Tennessee Equality Project

LGBT Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgeder

ONA Open And Affirming

iii

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to thank Will Batts and the Memphis Gay and Lesbian Community Center for providing the opportunity and space to conduct interviews.

In addition, I express my full appreciation for all who participated in my research. Their contributions are invaluable, and my thesis could not have been accomplished without them.

Finally, I want to thank the members of my committee, Dr. Jaime Harker, Dr. Katie

McKee, and Dr. Zandria Robinson for their help and guidance, as well as my fellow Southern

Studies graduates who remained supportive throughout the semester.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

ABSTRACT …………………………………………………………………………………… ii

LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS………………………………………………………………….. iii

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS…………………………………………………………………….. iv

INTRODUCTION……………………………………………………………………………... 1

II. “A LOT OF LITTLE ISLANDS”: MEMPHIS LGBT LIFE, ACTIVISM, AND THE

IMPORTANCE OF PLACE…………………………………………………………………... 16

III. BLACK AND GAY: RACE AND THE MEMPHIS LGBT COMMUNITY…………….. 42

IV. THE CHURCH AND SOCIAL CHANGE: CHURCH INVOLVEMENT IN THE

MEMPHIS LGBT MOVEMENT……………………………………………………………... 63

V.CONCLUSION……………………………………………………………………………... 82

LIST OF REFERENCES……………………………………………………………………… 88

LIST OF APPENDICES………………………………………………………………………. 95

VITA…………………………………………………………………………………………... 220

I. INTRODUCTION

When I began this project, typical responses I received after sharing my research topic include, “Is there much of a gay scene in Memphis?,” “the Memphis LGBT movement? Is there one?,” and even, “That must be depressing.” These comments reflect common notions of LGBT life in the South as oppressive, dull, or non-existent. While many disadvantages come with the

South’s lack of legal protections that LGBTs might enjoy elsewhere, I hope to challenge the worn-out stereotype of the South as backward by introducing new ways of observing and discussing the operation of region within the southern LGBT community and movement. Using

Memphis as a case study, I highlight some of the paradoxes and contradictions of queer southern life, complicating common understandings of the South as a repressive space for LGBT individuals along with the intertwined nature of politics, race, and religion in the city. I also observe intersections of race, class, gender, sexuality, and region in southern queer identity and the political implications of the multiple ways LGBTs structure their identities. In doing so, I hope to show the diversity in LGBT experience, the range of political issues considered important to LGBT Memphians, and what that means for the local movement. Observing challenges specific to the Memphis LGBT movement, I note the ways conservatism and activism have intersected, specifically through coalition building between secular LGBT organizations and progressive churches that combat conservative religious opposition in Memphis. Though I have separated place, race, and religion for analytical purposes, they are all recurring themes throughout the work, reflecting their interconnected nature in Memphis.

1. Why Memphis?

In Memphis and the Paradox of Place, Wanda Rushing brings to light the city’s paradoxical role as distinctly southern and local, yet connected to the world through commerce and communication. According to Rushing, “Memphis is a place of innovation and tradition, poverty and power, as well as continuity and disruption” (7). Though attitudes in the city have not changed much, according to Rushing, Memphis has “proved that it can learn from its mistakes,” being the place where Martin Luther King Jr. was refused proper respects at his funera, and which now houses the National Civil Rights Museum. This, Rushing argues, serves as “a link between Memphis and the struggle for human rights around the world” (3). Memphis has been described as “an inland river city where cultures, rich and poor, black and white, urban and rural, Northern and Southern…collide” (6). Rushing shows that Memphis is neither old nor new South, neither rural nor urban exclusively, global or local exclusively, but a hybrid that makes Memphis a unique place for my study.

Memphis is an urban place in the heart of the Bible Belt, in close proximity to the conservative states of Mississippi and Arkansas, and surrounded by rural areas within Shelby

County. Though Memphis is a metropolitan area and global distribution center, in many ways, it is also a “sleepy southern town” (Brown). Memphis is not as progressive as other cities, as one of the few of its size without a city ordinance that protects LGBTs from discrimination in employment, while southern cities such as Atlanta, New Orleans, Raleigh and Dallas have had such city ordinances since the late 1980s and early 1990s (Fleischmann and Hardman 410).

Other paradoxical aspects of Memphis include the city’s sixty-five percent black population within a state that is seventy-eight percent white, which makes race an especially potent factor within the city’s LGBT community (U.S. Census 2010). Despite its lack of legal protections for

LGBTs, Memphis is also one of the only cities in the Mid-South with a gay and lesbian community center, one that is incredibly active, attracting LGBTs not only from Memphis proper, but from surrounding small towns and communities as well. Collectively, these factors make Memphis an interesting space and place for studying the local LGBT community and movement for LGBT rights.

Focusing only on the progress of major cities of the West Coast and New England where

LGBT rights have been advanced the furthest often obscures the diversity of the LGBT movement, the progression of which takes different shapes in different regions. Indeed, according to Arnold Fleischmann and Jason Hardman who study Atlanta’s LGBT movement,

“gay politics involves both a ‘deep agenda’ that is the same everywhere and local agendas that differ”(409). Though Memphis and the national movement for LGBT rights share similar goals and strategies, there are also aspects of the local movement specific to place. Activism in

Memphis does not quite resemble traditional approaches emanating out of national LGBT rights organizations such as the Human Rights Campaign (HRC), nor does it mirror queer activism that might come from San Francisco or New York. Instead, Memphis lies somewhere in the middle, incorporating different strategies in response to conservatism. This study will contribute to other studies that help gauge the overall impact of the LGBT movement and the course it has taken regionally.

1. Previous Research

My research draws from several queer academic works that influence my approach and help structure this paper. Mary L. Gray’s Out in the Country: Youth Media and Queer Visibility in Rural America observes how a rural politics of identity functions in small towns and

3 communities. Working to debunk the idea that rural areas serve as “gay America’s closet” in contrast to the supposed freedom of expression that urban areas allow, Gray examines the differing strategies that rural queer youth use to create belonging and visibility with the limited resources available to them. Arguing against the binary of urban oases/rural closets, Gray critiques the privileging of some queer identities over others (4). Though Memphis is considered an urban place, I show that the city has many small town qualities that complicate the rural/urban divide and call for different strategies of visibility and activism. Out in the Country highlights the role of identity negotiating among queer rural youth, which I show functions as an important tool in the lives of “out” LGBT Memphians who must find or create their own queer spaces within a larger actual or perceived unwelcoming context (11). Like Gray, I demonstrate the importance of place and space in shaping LGBT visibility.

John Howard’s Men Like That: A Southern Queer History reveals the importance of home, school, and church, as sexually expressive spaces in the lives of queer male rural

Mississippians (xi-xiii). Calling for the recognition of the variety of ways rural (homo)sexuality plays out differently than in urban settings, Howard complicates common understandings of the

South as a repressive location for queer individuals by incorporating different modes of analysis, utilizing broader definitions and understandings of the function of region in queer life. Both Gray and Howard call into question “presumptions of queerness’ proper place,” which lies in no single racial or ethnic community, political party, church denomination, rural or urban location, or region (Gray 9). Likewise, I reveal the diversity of LGBT experience while demonstrating the operation of region in the lives of LGBT Memphians.

Other queer academic sources include two works by E. Patrick Johnson, Sweet Tea:

Black Gay Men of the South, and “’Quare’ Studies, or (Almost) Everything I Know about Queer

Studies I learned from My Grandmother.” Through oral history, Sweat Tea exposes the realities of black gay men as racial and sexual minorities living in the South. Both Sweat Tea and “Quare

Studies” are used to highlight intersections of race, sexuality, gender, class, and region, and complicate LGBT issues in the African American community by showing the various ways sexuality might play out differently within black and white communities (Johnson, Sweat Tea,

“Quare Studies” 124-157). This is especially important in analyzing Memphis, where a majority black population and history of racial struggle influences the discourse surrounding civil rights and LGBT rights in Memphis, activists’ strategies, and the overall shape the local movement has taken. I argue that “quare” depicts the type of activism happening in Memphis where “queer” and “LGBT” fail to do so.

Scott Herring in Another Country: Queer Anti-Urbanism argues that queer studies must get beyond the idea of the metropolis as the essential element of queer culture.

Herring develops an anti-urban theory that goes against notions of the rural as lacking, showing how queer artists have used rural stylistics to critique urban LGBT norms (6).

Rejecting the “flight to the city” narrative that “continues to provide many metronormative U.S. queer men with a sense of collective identity,” Herring shows how queer rural dwellers disavow such urbanized ideals (113). Incorporating Herring’s argument, I also call for a look beyond areas considered conducive to a thriving LGBT community, demonstrating how queer identity functions differently in Memphis, a southern city where both rural and urban sensibilities intersect. Focusing only on urban queer life in LGBT friendly cities obscures the operation of region and the differing modes by which southern or small town LGBTs operate within spaces of limited resources as well as perceived or actually more hostile environments. I demonstrate that

5 the narrow view of southern LGBT life as culturally deprived or oppressed is an inaccurate assessment of what is happening in the South, showing the variety of reasons

LGBTs choose to stay in Memphis.

2. A Note about Language

When I mention “politics” and the “political” I am incorporating a much broader definition than often allowed. Politics in this sense might encompass culture, religion, race, region, and daily life. This definition is required to speak of Memphis and Tennessee politics, which is so intertwined with race and religion that it is nearly impossible to speak of one without also discussing the other. Moreover, we are all political actors in our daily lives. I consider such actions as participating in Pride, attending an Open and Affirming church service, or going to a gay bar political statements, which, in the South, take on significantly different meanings. For example, when I asked Memphis LGBT historian Vincent Astor if he considered the activities listed above, or even simply being “out” forms of activism, he replied, “Yes. Definitely. Because you’re in your own little safe space, but there are many other places that are not so safe. I haven’t been to the St. Patrick’s Day parade with the gay contingent yet…it just blows my mind that they’re in a St. Patrick’s day parade where gays are banned in other cities in the country, and on

Beale Street, which is redneck tourist heaven” (Appendix C). Participating in these activities in

New York would not make the same statement as they might in Memphis, where there are fewer

“safe places” for openly LGBT individuals as Astor posits. Therefore, the term “activism” also takes on a broader definition in this context, encompassing seemingly commonplace, non- controversial activities. Activism might also describe traditional forms that organizations such as the Tennessee Equality Project (TEP) incorporate along the lines of awareness, outreach,

6 education, and lobbying, or it may refer to symbolic forms of activism that welcoming churches in Memphis utilize by providing space and gay-straight constituency. LGBT politics and activism may be included with much broader social issues of peace, justice, and equality, involving anti-war, women’s rights, civil rights, and environmental concerns. Because Memphis’

LGBT community, politics, and activism do not fit a specific mold, broad definitions and different modes of analysis are needed to account for region.

Like Gray in Out in the Country, I use the term “community” as more of an aspiration or ideal than a reality, while simultaneously acknowledging its importance as an organizing principle (Gray 27). I also want to clarify my use of the terms “closeted” and “out.” As E. Patrick

Johnson notes in Black Gay Men of the South, “coming out” is a contested phrase. Being “in the closet” suggests that one is either in or out with little variability. Noting the impact of region and coming out, Johnson shows that some LGBT southerners never officially “come out,” but their friends and family “just know” (109). Even when family members welcome and accommodate their loved one’s partners publicly, the fact that the couple is queer might remain private, yet an open secret. LGBT southerners may simply choose not to announce their sexuality in a public way (109). With that said, I use the terms “closeted”/“out” not as a strict binary, but recognizing the terms’ often complicated nature. Finally, I sometimes use “queer,” recognizing that individual sexual identities and behavior might not consistently fit one category or the other and pointing to the fluidity and variability of gender and sexuality. However, I also acknowledge that many gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender people do not use “queer,” a word fraught with ambiguity that does not hold the same meaning for people across racial, ethnic, class and regional lines, as I demonstrate. Therefore, I use “LGBT” to encompass self-identified gays, lesbians, bisexuals, and transgenders, incorporating a politics of identity throughout this work.

“LGBT” is often considered a passé term, one that has been replaced by “queer,” which supposedly transcends the need for identity categories. While queer theorists have transformed the way we theorize gender and sexuality by deconstructing binaries such as heterosexual/homosexual, gay/lesbian, masculine/feminine, and identity categories, “queer” can gloss over important issues (Johnson and Henderson 5). Acknowledging the limitations of sexual identity categories, I also note their historical significance in giving voice to those who previously had none, as critics of identity politics seem to ignore the ways that traditional social identities and communal ties can be important to one’s survival (Halberstam 20, Johnson, “Quare

Studies” 130). Furthermore, white queer theorists have at times failed to consider the impact of intersections of queer sexualities with other minority categories. As E. Patrick Johnson and Mae

G. Henderson of Black Queer Studies: A Critical Anthology and other queer theorists note, “the deconstruction of binaries and the explicit ‘unmarking’ of difference (e.g., gender, race, class, region, able-bodiedness, etc.) have serious implications for those for whom these other differences ‘matter’” (5). Indeed, queer theorizing can de-emphasize the impact of class and racial privilege, which I attempt to account for by addressing the intersectionality of sexuality with other minority categories.

The work of Kimberlé Crenshaw among others has been especially important in influencing the concept of intersectionality. Crenshaw posits that traditional discourses on racism and sexism conflate or ignore intragroup differences. The structuring of minority identities as either/or (i.e. black or gay, female or black, etc.) relegates those with multiple minority identities, such as black women, the focus of Crenshaw’s studies, to a “location that resists telling” (1242).

Demonstrating that black women have been marginalized within both discourses on racism and sexism, Crenshaw posits that aspects of class, race, and gender cannot be analyzed separately.

Instead, she shows that the intersections of multiple grounds of identity must be accounted for when considering how the social world is constructed (1245). I hope to demonstrate that LGBT experiences are not the same over the “L,” “G,” “B,” or “T,” nor across lines of gender, class, race, and region, and account for interactions of minority identities and how they shape the ways

Memphis LGBTs experience the world.

3. Methods

The interviews served as the most substantial source of information during my research, forming the basis of this work. I conducted fifteen interviews from June 2011 to January 2012, acquiring participants by seeking volunteers through the MGLCC’s weekly newsletter. I ran two advertisements in the newsletter, one for LGBTs in general and one to gain more transgender participants. I also asked an active volunteer of the MGLCC, Martavius Hampton, to help gain more African American participants. The interviews, which were taped and transcribed and are included in the Appendices, were generally forty-five minutes to an hour long and conducted at the MGLCC, coffee shops, or individual’s offices of employment, while a few follow-ups were held over the phone and via email. The turnout of general community members includes three male to female white transgenders, three black gay men, one black lesbian, one white lesbian, and one white gay man. Public figures of the queer community include LGBT historian of

Memphis Vincent Astor; attorney at law Susan McKenzie; pastor of Holy Trinity Community church, Rev. Paul Ecknes-Tucker; and vice chair of the Shelby County Tennessee Equality

Project (TEP), Michelle Bliss. Additional interviews include Cheryl Cornish, former preacher of

First Congregational United Church of Christ and Andy Andrews, pastor of St. Mary’s Episcopal

Cathedral, both straight allies of the Memphis LGBT community. The interviewees range in age

9 from twenty-two to sixty. Interviews also range in religious denomination affiliation and education levels, however, because of the small sample, most are middle class and black or white. Because I relied on volunteers from the MGLCC, nearly all but one participant identified openly, which neglects a population that may not identify as LGBT, as well as those who might not be “out” in their communities. Because no bisexuals volunteered to be interviewed, they are also not represented. This could be due to the ability of bisexuals to blend socially within heterosexual circles, with less of a need for the center, though that may not always be the case.

Despite the lack of bisexuals, I use “LGBT” as descriptive of the type of identity politics and activism discussed. For the purposes of this paper, interviews were limited to LGBTs associated with the MGLCC. Although I do not have a fully representative sample, I have captured the movement elite, which includes both people on the ground and public figures, and is valuable for understanding intersections of the personal and political in the local movement.

4. The Context of the Memphis LGBT Movement

It is important to describe the political atmosphere of Tennessee in order to contextualize issues shaping LGBT daily life and the local movement in Memphis. One aspect of Memphis’ movement that characterizes much of the South is conservative politics. In recent years, a range of anti-LGBT legislation has been introduced in Tennessee. The organization on the forefront of fighting such legislation in the state is the Tennessee Equality Project (TEP), which works on the local level to create statewide change (Tennessee Equality Project). The TEP first introduced an anti-discrimination ordinance that would protect LGBT city employees from discrimination based on sexual orientation, gender identity, and expression in Memphis in 2008 and again in

2010, but the measure failed to pass both times. The first time the proposition was withdrawn

10 due to lack of support from the Memphis community and negative responses from certain members of the Memphis city council. The second time the ordinance was introduced, the measure died on the second reading. Only a broad anti-discrimination measure that bans

“discrimination against any Shelby County government employees on the basis of nonmerit factors” that does not mention sexual orientation and does not extend to city employees was able to pass (Appendix E, Connolly). Nevertheless, this was seen as a beginning to progress. After a similar anti-discrimination ordinance passed in Nashville, however, a measure called the Special

Access to Discrimination Act (with the appropriate acronym, ‘SAD’) was passed at the state level, negating Nashville’s ordinance and preventing any city or county in Tennessee from adopting similar measures that address sexual orientation specifically. That piece of legislation is currently being challenged by the TEP (Appendix E, Tennessee Equality Project).

A bill dubbed the “don’t say gay” bill (HB0229), which would prevent teachers from discussing homosexuality in the classroom before ninth grade, was originally sponsored by

Representative Bill Dunn in 2011 (“Don’t Say Gay Bill Stalls”). The proposed bill was met with much protest in Tennessee, gaining national media attention, especially after controversial statements made by backer Representative Stacey Campfield, including, “Most people realize that AIDS came from the homosexual community—it was one guy screwing a monkey, if I recall correctly, and then having sex with men” (“Stacey Campfield, Tennessee Senator”). Though the bill passed the Senate and House, its enactment has been stalled, since, according to Dunn, “we found out there really is not sex education curriculum in K-8 right now” (“Don’t Say Gay stalls”). Indeed, sex education is not required in Tennessee, but if it is taught, teachers must adhere to strict abstinence only guidelines (“STDs, HIV/AIDS”). Supporters of the ‘don’t say gay’ bill have now opted to pursue a sex education bill (HB3621), one that raises serious public

11 health issues in Tennessee and that is part of a broader ultra conservative environment (“Don’t

Say Gay Stalls”). The new bill has been dubbed “No Hand Holding Bill,” as it forbids teachers to

“promote any gateway sexual activity or health message that encourages students to experiment with non-coital sexual activity” (Sayle). The bill also creates major legal repercussion for teachers who do not adhere to its strictures, allowing parents to sue for damages from the instructor or school (Sayle).

Anti-LGBT legislation in Tennessee and Memphis reveals the homophobia perpetuated by conservatism in the region. Notably, this legislation has not been received without pushback.

LGBTs, activists, and straight allies of Tennessee have responded to the bigotry represented by these proposed laws. As I demonstrate in greater detail in the first chapter, the TEP incorporates a range of defensive strategies in order to combat such laws, though fighting bad bills is just one strategy the organization uses. In recent years, the TEP has gone from “being on the defensive to the offensive” because of the changing social climate in regards to LGBTs and LGBT rights

(Appendix E). The TEP finds sponsors to promote bills that prevent bullying, provides resources to people who have been discriminated against at work, and is heavily involved in city council elections among other activities. A growing local movement that involves not only the TEP, but other organizations including the MGLCC, progressive churches, and other groups in Memphis has been developing since the early part of the decade. I demonstrate movement challenges specific to Memphis, as well as the intersections of activism and conservatism that have shaped the course of the local movement in recent years. I also show how conservatism, racism, religiosity, and other aspects of region affect LGBT Memphian’s everyday lives, the ways they negotiate their identities as a result, and the political implications of those identity formations.

5. Chapter Summaries

Chapter one of this work focuses on aspects of place that shape the LGBT community and movement of Memphis. I highlight the city’s paradoxes, with certain parts of Memphis that are very open and progressive and others that can be hostile. I outline aspects of the physical landscape that have been conducive to such alternative, grassroots movements as the Memphis movement. I discuss the MGLCC as a space within a place, and its importance to the LGBT community in a generally not-so-LGBT-friendly city. I demonstrate the ways LGBT Memphians negotiate their identity as a result of Memphis’ paradoxes. I also show the range of LGBT experiences in the city, highlighting the difference in trans experience and political issues of interest across lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender identity. Transgenders, though included in

“LGBT,” often face tremendous disadvantages as a result of their greater stigmatization nationwide. I also show aspects of place that shape their lives in Memphis. Highlighting the breadth of political issues that some LGBTs hold more important than others, I show how aspects of region affect their political concerns. I expand on challenges, goals and strategies specific to Memphis as well as aspects of the local movement in line with the national movement for LGBT rights. Finally, I discuss the many reasons why, despite the lack of legal protections and resources available to LGBTs in other places, LGBTs enjoy and remain in the city of

Memphis.

Chapter two’s focus is on race and divisions that exist within the black and white LGBT communities of Memphis in light of the city’s history of racial struggle. I start with a discussion of Memphis Black Gay Pride as a symbol of racial division, as black gay prides exist across the county in locations that remain segregated. I also discuss Memphis Black Gay Pride as an important political statement and outlet that promotes visibility among a community often

13 rendered invisible. I note class differences among the black community and aspects of class that shape the two pride parades, Black Gay Pride and Mid-South Pride, in Memphis. Demonstrating some of the differences in black-white LGBT experience that make separate pride celebrations necessary, I highlight intersections of sexuality, race, gender, class, and region that shape black

LGBT identity in Memphis. I show the various ways black LGBTs construct their identities as a result of those intersections and their political implications. I also bring in a discussion of the black church and its often contradictory role in the lives of black LGBTs, along with aspects of place that shape black LGBTs’ religious experiences there. Using E. Patrick Johnson’s work on black gay identity along with the interviews from black LGBT Memphians, I hope to expose certain limitations placed upon black LGBTs, arguing for multiple definitions of “blackness” and challenging common misconceptions of homophobia in the African American community.

The final chapter focuses on church involvement in the Memphis LGBT movement and intersections of conservatism and activism that have shaped its course. I show the different ways local activists and progressive churches have responded to religious opposition with a Christian message of equality in Memphis. Within a conservative atmosphere that often pits LGBTs against Christians, secular LGBT groups and progressive churches in Memphis have become involved in organizing on the issue of LGBT rights, helping to bridge a perceived disconnect between the LGBT community and faith communities. Progressive and Open and Affirming or welcoming churches have also helped alleviate racial divisions in Memphis, as many work intentionally to create diversity in their congregations, and also work with predominantly African

American churches on other issues of justice and equality within the community at large.

Addressing the African American church’s legacy within the Civil Rights Movement in

Memphis, I demonstrate some of the ironies, paradoxes, and connections involved in civil rights

14 and LGBT rights discourse in Memphis. Noting the ways social and political issues operate differently in black and white church communities, I complicate notions of homophobia within the African American church. Finally, I show the significance of progressive churches’ involvement in the local movement and their powerful social and political influence.

II: “A LOT OF LITTLE ISLANDS:” MEMPHIS LGBT LIFE, ACTIVISM, AND THE

IMPORTANCE OF PLACE

Amy Ulmer: Do you feel like Memphis is a welcoming place for LGBTs?

Eddie Wiley: Not all parts of Memphis. As a whole, it’s not as progressive as

other larger cities. I do see more people being, not accustomed to it, I don’t want

to say getting used to it, but becoming more aware that the community is here and

that’s it not going anywhere, and I think Midtown is, like, super equality and

everything like that, but there’s certain parts where you go where it’s like you see

people whispering, or you can see it in their eyes, ‘Ooh, that’s a gay guy’ or

‘That’s’ a lesbian’ or something (Appendix O).

1. Introduction

Those interviewed for this project all agreed that Memphis is not a welcoming place for

LGBTs overall. However, they also agreed that certain spaces—bars, the MGLCC, churches, university groups—were incredibly warm and open. According to Vincent Astor, LGBT historian and active member of the community, “Memphis is a lot of little islands, a lot of different groups that don’t necessarily get together much at all. There’s plenty of gay life…it’s not like the districts in San Francisco and in Chicago and in Houston, you know, where there’s a whole district where you can go there and say, ‘Well, this is queer land’” (Appendix C). This chapter focuses on the physical and social aspects of Memphis that have shaped the local LGBT movement and the ways LGBTs negotiate their identities due to the nature of the city. A

16 discussion of the political interests and the changes LGBT Memphians would like to see take place brings to light the lack of legislation benefitting their quality of life on the local, state and national level. I show the ways certain organizations in Memphis are addressing these issues and how activism has operated in light of Memphis’ conservatism. I conclude by demonstrating the various aspects of Memphis that LGBTs enjoy despite its downfalls, the most important being that Memphis is “home,” which goes beyond simply living in the city, but holds greater meaning.

2. A Space within a Place: The Memphis Gay and Lesbian Community Center

According to LGBT Memphians, because of the nature of Memphis, it is hard to speak of one LGBT “community.” Memphis lacks the same kind of queer life that, as in other metropolitan areas in and outside of the South, allows a person to “spend your whole time in the gay community and never have to step out,” according to Mary Helen Looper, a white lesbian of sixty years who speaks of her time spent in D.C. (Appendix J). In Memphis, the Gay and Lesbian

Community Center (MGLCC) is one space where LGBTs can go and find some sense of community. Within a city that “can be hostile physically, more so emotionally and mentally,” the center serves as an “oasis that you can come if you need to” for many LGBTs (Appendix B,

Appendix D). The MGLCC began in 1989, starting out in a garage apartment and moving to several different locations before ending up on Cooper Street in Midtown and has grown considerably since then (Appendix C). Midtown is a progressive, racially mixed, middle class, artsy area. This mix of progressivism, racial integration, and creativity make Midtown a likely district for such grassroots, alternative movements as the local LGBT movement to develop

(Lloyd). The center is located down the street from a large LGBT friendly church, First

Congregational United Church of Christ, which is home to the Mid-South Peace and Justice

Center. As one of the only gay and lesbian centers in the Mid-South, the center is an important resource for the LGBT community in Memphis, especially among youth, and does a tremendous amount with its small budget. For some of the LGBTs interviewed, it’s a place they go only every now and then. Others are there on a weekly basis. All agree, however, that just having the

MGLCC, its physical structure standing as a queer space in Memphis, is highly significant.

According to Martavius, a twenty-four year old African American gay man and student at the University of Memphis, the MGLCC is a “very family-oriented place. I feel like it’s family away from family. It’s a great place. And I don’t feel like it’s only for LGBTs, it’s really for all of those that support LGBTQ rights. We have a lot of straight allies, so it’s really family- oriented” (Appendix I). As it is for Martavius, the MGLCC is like family or home for many

LGBTs. Indeed, the center even resembles home, as its building is an old, renovated residence.

In a city that functions as a multi-centered queer district with an LGBT community that is like “a lot of little islands,” the center provides a unified space for networking and community. For others, like Mike Robertson, a forty-one year old white man and higher education administrator who does not attend events at the center regularly, just knowing it is there is important:

You don’t drive up and down Memphis and see too many rainbow flags, at the bar

maybe, but, so I think it’s pretty significant with that alone, that there’s a

presence, a gay and lesbian center and a rainbow flag, is good. When you have a

big city, you have people from all over, and I think those people coming from

smaller towns, just seeing, just driving by, seeing it, would feel some comfort

(Appendix M).

The rainbow flag flying outside of the building makes a major statement in the conservative southern city of Memphis—“We are here.” As Mike mentions, people not just from Memphis

18 drive by and see the flag, but LGBTs from surrounding small towns and rural communities might also gain meaning from its presence. Having a visible home space promotes positive self-esteem and sense of belonging despite the discrimination, and its physical presence brings visibility to the queer community within a heteronormative society.

According to Vincent Astor, the center makes an even stronger statement to older

LGBTs:

People of my generation and people who came out in the years before I did are

still absolutely in awe and wonder that this place exists because we ask ourselves

what would it have been like, how much easier would it have been how much

better would it have been if we had had some place we knew about where we

could say “What is going on?” The people that did the marching are still in awe of

this place (Appendix C).

For earlier generations of queer Memphians, the MGLCC is something they would not imagined to exist when they were growing up. The centers’ existence is a reflection of the changing social times, changes that have been slow but persistent. Today, the MGLCC serves as an important space for young LGBTs during a critical period in their life, as well as for the LGBT community as a whole. While all LGBTs interviewed agree that, overall, Memphis is not a welcoming place for LGBTs, they also agree that there are pockets of openness. The MGLCC is one of those spaces, and it makes a profound statement in the heart of the city.

3. Place, Discrimination, and Identity Negotiation

While I have argued for a broader definition of politics and activism, I also call for a broader conceptualization of discrimination. Discrimination may not always be outright and

19 blatant, but can also be subtle and unconscious. Often, discrimination is not easily identifiable, calling for a broader definition. Devon W. Carbado suggests that a perpetrator of discrimination is more than someone who acts intentionally to bring about a discriminatory result: “…I suggest that those of us who unquestionably accept the racial, gender, and heterosexual privileges we have—those of us who fail to acknowledge our victimless status with respect to racism, sexism, and homophobia—are also perpetrators of discrimination” (190). As Carbado posits, discrimination also exists in the way of a privileged person complacently accepting his or her advantaged position without resistance. Another way discrimination manifests is through microaggressions, which include subtle behaviors that invalidate or insult and perpetuate racism, sexism, and heterosexism (Jackson). These expressions have devastating effects on any marginalized group in society. Earlier, Eddie gave an example of a microaggression—someone whispering, “That’s a gay guy” (Appendix O). Discrimination may come in a variety of ways, from multiple points and via multiple modes, the basis of which are not always clear.

With Memphis and its “paradox of place,” as a city that is sometimes queer friendly and at others, violently hostile, LGBTs might experience discrimination at differing levels, and for reasons that do not solely pertain to sexuality, but that intersect with class status, race, ethnicity, gender, and gender presentation, as I demonstrate further in the next chapter. When I asked Mike

Robertson to talk about his experiences with discrimination in Memphis, his response highlighted how ambiguous the nature of discrimination can be:

You know…I have had friends who once they found out I was gay, backed off,

that’s not really true discrimination I guess, but kind of backed off, you know. But

I really haven’t—I’ve never been turned down for a job or housing where I

thought it was because I was gay, or not served somewhere. On the flip side of

that, I’ve not felt comfortable to hold hands with my partner in public in certain

places, so is that discrimination? I don’t know, you tell me. But, so, in that aspect,

I guess a little. But nothing major. At least that I can remember. I’m sure I’ve

been called ‘fag’ and ‘queer’ and those kinds of things, you know, by a passerby

or whatever, but nothing significant (Appendix M).

The idea of “true” discrimination reflects the common notion of discrimination as outright and intense. However, the examples Mike gives are also forms of discrimination, specifically, microaggressions—being rejected by friends on the basis of sexual orientation, receiving judgment for holding hands with one’s partner in public, and being called offensive names. Yet, while Robertson has experienced discrimination in these ways, he has not had any confrontations considered significant during his time in Memphis. While Robertson’s statement goes against notions of the South as extremely discriminatory and unpleasant for LGBTs to live, it also shows that being called derogatory names like “fag” may not be uncommon.

Mike also acknowledges that his sexuality may not be visible, and others may experience more instances of discrimination based on having non-normative gender presentations: “As people are more—lesbians who are more masculine, males who are more effeminate have a visible something that can cause discrimination and violence” (Appendix M). In Memphis,

LGBTs find themselves negotiating their identities in different areas or during different circumstances to avoid added stress or potential harm. They report having to “butch it up” or

“tone it down” if effeminate and a man, masculine and a woman, or “gender bending” in any way, depending on where they are in the city. They may feel comfortable being themselves at home, but lack that kind of freedom of gender identity or expression at work or school. Below,

21 we hear from Eddie, a gay black man and bank teller who elaborates on the sort of negotiations he makes on a regular basis.

Even though I say I’m just Eddie, sometimes I’m like, ‘Oh, it’s OK to be feminine

here, you have to be masculine here,’ and most of the times you can’t always be

Eddie. You have to butch it up sometimes even though I hate to do it, but at the

end of the day it’s inevitable. There are some places where you go, you can’t be,

you know, flaming, but that’s hopefully, like I said, that will change, because you

need to be who you are wherever. You don’t see a straight guy out saying ‘Oh I

have to be this way, I have to be straight, I have to do this, I have to do that.’ They

just live their life. It’s a struggle (Appendix O).

Eddie brings up an important point—that heterosexuals, because of their normative identities and gender presentations, do not have to be conscious of these issues surrounding sexuality. With other gays and lesbians, too, their sexual orientation may be less visible, though they are probably more aware of their surroundings. While Eddie describes himself as “not flamboyant,” he is also “not a thug, man’s man,” but has a style of dress and demeanor that might make his sexual identity more visible (Appendix O). Because of the nature of Memphis and stigma placed upon LGBTs, Eddie has to “butch it up” at times to make life a little easier.

AJ, a twenty-six year old pest controller who identifies as a stud or dominant lesbian, negotiates her identity in similar ways.

Sometimes I may need to tone who I am down. My voice may need to be a little

more feminine than usual, and that’s OK with me. You know, because a lot of

people haven’t caught up with the times. And like I said, when I was younger, I’d

be ready to flaunt it in anybody’s face that I wanted to. But now that I’m older

and I know bills have to be paid, I can cut back. But it doesn’t change who I am

inside, it’s just having respect for the other person. Not throwing it in their faces.

You know, people respect you more for that… (Appendix H).

AJ mentions not “flaunting” her sexuality, which, though LGBTs may be considered to

“flaunt” it, again, this standard is not held for heterosexuals in the same sense. AJ says that now that she has adult responsibilities, she feels less of a need to “flaunt it in anybody’s face,” which is probably also due to the fact that she is now more resolute in her identity than earlier years, as she shared with me. AJ also shows that she is aware of her role as a political actor in everyday life, although she does not feel the need to make a statement in every testy situation. She mentions that by negotiating her identity in this way, she is not “changing who she is,” though she might need to change her presentation just to get by with less stress in everyday situations. It is also important to note that AJ and Eddie are African Americans, and when discussing issues of identity, race and sexuality cannot be separated as they are always relational. As people with multiple minority identities, the intersecting factors of race and sexuality play into their experiences. I analyze how these sections operate in greater detail in the following chapter.

Mark Mitchell, a forty-nine year old transgender in transition from male to female who teaches aviation in Memphis also negotiates his identity at times, especially in the work setting:“You know, people in aviation are, you know, super jock or he-man. You really have to put on a façade, get really good at being an actor. Because you can’t, you’re expected to be one way and you’re really something else, but it’s just what you have to do” (Appendix L). Because of the masculine atmosphere of his workplace, Mark does not fit the typical mold of what he is expected to, becoming “really good at being an actor” (Appendix L). Mark notes that there is a necessity to the negotiations he makes in his workplace, being something that he has to do to get

23 by, while at home, he is free to express himself without the threat of being judged or bothered.

AJ, Mark, and Eddie were not the only ones who reported negotiating their identities according to certain situations, which was described as pretty every day and routine. The examples demonstrate how place affects everyday LGBT life in Memphis.

4. The “T” in LGBT: Transgender Life in Memphis

This section focuses on the experiences of Memphis transgenders, which differ from those of LGBs in many ways. The three transgender individuals, all male to female transgenders who volunteered to speak with me, often had difficult times coming out and gaining support.

Transgender Memphians share both experiences of transgender people nationwide, as well as issues specific to Memphis and Tennessee. On a national scale, the key issues surrounding the transgender community involve violence, discrimination, access to healthcare, birth certificate modifications, and higher rates of unemployment (“National Transgender”). As people who do not identify with their biological sex, a common frustration expressed by trans individuals involves the widespread societal misunderstanding of the fluidity of sex, gender, and sexuality. A second misunderstanding involves the representation of transgenders as abnormal or having a mental illness, with gender identity disorder being a common diagnosis among trans people.

Beth Bates, a fifty-six year old white male to female transgender and retired medical researcher who now works as a physical trainer elaborates on some of these issues:

What most people see in the press and the media and so forth is the extreme bad,

and the extreme that doesn’t present, well, this is just a normal person who has

had this transition or who is a normal person functioning in society, maybe a

doctor, maybe a lawyer, maybe a politician, maybe a school teacher, maybe a

whatever. They’re just a normal person, and that’s not hardly ever portrayed to

the public. And one reason is people like me don’t really want to go out there and

say, ‘Yes this is me, yes I transitioned, yes this is ..’, because once you do that

there’s no pulling back. You can’t let those words back in the bottle, and then you

become a subject of hate crimes, and you can become targets of discrimination

openly and secretively, and you present, if you have family, all of your family

becomes targets, and I’m not willing to do that at all (Appendix D).

Beth gives a sense of the kinds of issues transgender individuals face nationally. Fearing what will happen as a result, Beth does not identify openly as transgender. According to Sara who identifies openly as a male to female transgender and is a student at the University of

Memphis, many transgenders “don’t identify as trans, they identify as their actual gender, which is perfectly understandable” (Appendix N). Transgenders might not feel like they have anything to “come out” to, identifying with their transitioned gender. Mark, the transitioning male to female who works in aviation, says that others “don’t come out because they don’t feel they will be accepted…I think when it comes to transgenders, people will listen, but they don’t understand. And I think that’s the biggest thing. So if they don’t understand it, they fear it”

(Appendix L). In Memphis, several transgender deaths, most recently, Duanna Johnson in 2008, caused increased anxiety among a community that already remains largely secretive. Though these types of hate crimes occur nationwide, several transgenders believe living in the South presents an added disadvantage:

Ulmer: Do you feel like the South as opposed to the non-South might be more

discriminatory?

Bates: It’s national, but it’s more prominent I think in the South. There’s just

religion-based conservative values more here. When I was transitioning, I lived in

Mississippi. I did live in Mississippi for four years, and that was an experience.

Just south of here in Hernando. So I still worked in Memphis. And, yep, right

down the road was the Buster Keaton American Legion Lodge that flew the rebel

flag and rode all the motorcycles, and you didn’t go by there on Saturday night

unless you were one of the good ole boys. So discrimination is real prevalent I

think in the South, but it’s nationwide (Appendix D).

Interestingly, Beth’s statement connects signs of racism with signs that trans or lesbian and gay individuals would not be welcome. Equating “Old South” racism to a heterosexist and masculinist culture that makes LGBTs feel uncomfortable, Beth connects racism, sexism and heterosexism. Again, this shows that there are multiple connections between and intersections of

LGBT experiences and broader social issues of marginalized people, and region certainly shapes those experiences and issues.

Indeed, several point to the small town nature, religiosity, and lack of education and legal protections in the region as major barriers to gaining respect. However, Mark does not believe that the discrimination he faces is more of a southern phenomenon. He feels that in Memphis particularly, religion plays a major role in this fear-based discrimination: “I don’t know if it’s primarily the South. I think in this area here, people speak out a lot more against it and speak out more than other places because religion here is really prevalent” (Appendix L). Sara, also, though she has not experienced blatant discrimination or harassment, says she steers clear of religious fanatics:

For the most part, the attitudes I’ve faced here in Memphis have been moderate. I

haven’t run into complete and utter, ‘Oh, that’s just something that’s abominable,’

however, I don’t hang out with people that are Bellevue or First Baptist or, yeah,

there’s like a whole list of people, a whole list of religious organizations that as a

rule I stay away from (Appendix N).

Another aspect of place that affects transgenders living in Memphis involves the state’s birth certificate laws—Tennessee is one of only a few states in the nation that does not allow for birth certificate modifications (“State Laws and Legislation”). Because the trans individuals interviewed are from Arkansas, Minnesota, and Florida, they were able to change their birth certificates in their home states, and thus acquired Tennessee driver’s licenses that show their appropriate gender. Other regional disadvantages involve access to healthcare for transgenders.

Mark went through nearly eight doctors in Memphis before he found one that would issue hormone therapy, which is not uncommon for transgenders in the area. As Beth shows, this is due to the lack of medical resources available in Memphis:

And that, access to health care, for people who are thinking about transitioning

need psychological counseling before they begin transitioning, trying to go

through the appropriate steps to transition, there’s nothing here. There’s basically

almost no network. They have a group here that I haven’t met with that’s the

Perpetual Transitions group that I’m sure they use, you know, some physicians,

but mental health facilities healthcare, there’s not enough networking (Appendix

D).

These issues merely brush the surface of transgender experience nationally and locally in

Memphis. According to Mark, “transgenders in Memphis are where lesbians and gays were back

27 in the seventies, just starting to come out and just starting to win the acceptance that we’re regular people” (Appendix L). While hostility towards trans individuals remains strong, groups like the Tennessee Transgender Political Coalition (TTPC) and individuals like State Senator

Beverly Marerro and House Representative Jeanne Richardson, both from Memphis, are working for issues such as birth certificate modification in Tennessee (Appendix E, Tennessee

Transgender). However, those interviewed feel that there is not enough being done within the movement on the local, state, or national level.

The experiences of Memphis transgenders, though similar to those of gays and lesbians, are distinct in several ways. While stigma surrounding LGBs has decreased significantly, transgenders face greater discrimination, which is heavily due to a lack of understanding of transgender issues and the varying ways sex, gender, and sexuality might operate. Moreover, transgender political issues differ considerably from those of LGBs. According to Martavius, a gay African American male, “I understand why we are together, the term queer as an umbrella term for everything, because we do share similar struggles, but there are some things that are completely distinct and overlooked. There are people that say ‘gay and lesbian’ rights, but you’re leaving out other people when you say that. Gay rights are completely different from transgender rights” (Appendix I). The next section focuses on LGBT political issues as a whole, but also reveals the differences in transgender and LGB rights issues.

5. LGBT Memphian’s’ Political Interests

As I have outlined so far, place strongly shapes the experiences of LGBTs and the ways they might negotiate their identities. LGBT Memphians’ experiences range across the “L,” “G,”

“B,” and “T.” This also means that LGBTs have a range of political interests, with some issues

28 considered more important than others. In Memphis, because there is a lack of legislation benefitting LGBTs, that range is even greater. In Tennessee, several proposed pieces of legislation deem LGBTs second class citizens, such as the Special Access to Discrimination

(SAD) Act and the “don’t say gay” bill. Memphis also lacks an ordinance protecting LGBT city employees from discrimination, though several attempts have been made to have one passed.

LGBT police officers, EMTs, firefighters, and park service workers, many of whom have experienced instances of sexual harassment based on sexual orientation, have no legal recourse for such instances of discrimination (Appendix E). This section focuses on LGBT Memphians range of political concerns and how a lack of certain laws affects their lives.

Martavius brings up the need for marriage, adoption, hate crimes laws, and protection against intimate partner violence:

Even if I don’t want to get married, I feel that we should have the right to do so,

so marriage and adoption. Making sure that our hate crimes are taken care of,

reported, and that’s on both sides, as well as senior LGBTQs. That’s something

that we don’t talk about, and I feel that we need to raise awareness about that and

intimate partner violence in the community. I feel there’s still, like, we know it

happens but people don’t want to take it seriously. And in the schools there’s this

“don’t say gay” bill that’s in session right now, stuff like that, that’s why the

South tends to move slowly because of stuff like that. That’s unnecessary

(Appendix I).

Great amounts of time have been wasted on arbitrary bills like “don’t say gay,” which was supposed to prevent teachers from discussing homosexuality before ninth grade even though there is no sex education in kindergarten through eighth grades in the state of Tennessee, and

29 young students go largely uninformed of LGBT issues in school anyway. As Martavius notes, the attention given to such bills while other issues go ignored inhibits progress in the South.

AJ brings up the need for protection against discrimination:

I was almost, almost discriminated against at my job. We have a trip that they do

every year…and I’m talking about taking my significant other with me when my

boss tells me that he didn’t know if it was going to be OK to do that. Now I would

have a leg to stand on, but then again, I wouldn’t’ because there’s no

discrimination for sexual orientation on anything in Memphis, and they need that

(Appendix H).

While many argue that anti-discrimination laws are difficult to enforce, this is one pretty clear example of discrimination. AJ calls the instance “almost” discrimination because, in the end, her department manager allowed the partner to attend, but otherwise, there would be no recourse for

AJ. This instance serves as an example of microagression, which can cause profound, negative psychological effects.

Beth discusses other public policy concerns:

The marriage laws must change. It has to become a national, same-sex marriage

must become available to all. Right now I could go and get married to a man.

Because my birth certificate, everything else says female, and then someone

would come up and the legalities of that would still be questioned. It’s one of

those, you know, and the education curriculum in our whole system is so skewed

towards straight everything, no deviation from anything, and there’s still not

enough separation between church and state. It’s getting worse and not better

(Appendix D).

Beth holds marriage, education reform, and separation between church and state extremely important, highlighting some of the ironies involved in current laws. Improvement of

Tennessee’s education system is particularly significant, as education is the strongest factor in alleviating negative attitudes towards minority groups. As we have seen, lack of separation between church and state continues to pervade Tennessee’s politics, as well as southern politics in general.

Sara expands on transgender issues that should be protected by law:

I really want to see a national law come through, just something on the national

level that says ‘Hey these people exist, ‘Hey, this is the process for which social

security is going to work now,’ as far as transgender people…then from there,

everything has to adhere to the national level, and that actually be part of it as,

‘Yes we do believe in state’s rights, but this is people’s rights, and states are

trying to take away peoples’ rights protected by the constitution, so no, you have

to actually adhere to our social security law,’ is kind of what I’d like to see come

through…I would like to see the ‘don’t say gay’ bill and Special Access to

Discrimination Act up and vanish (Appendix N).

Something I want to highlight that goes along with Sara’s sentiment involving freedom and “people’s rights protected by the constitution,” along with the concern for marriage that others express, is the conservative, middle class nature of such arguments. Because marriage is fundamentally middle class, the majority of respondents consider the issue very important. Other

LGBTs, along with many queer activists critique marriage as a patriarchal institution that not only privileges straight people over LGBTs, but also discriminates against people of other non- normative sexualities, non-traditional relationships, single people, and those who do not wish to

31 marry (Warner 769). While conservative right wingers make “gay marriage” out to be a radically liberal issue that would supposedly dismantle societal structure, conservative LGBTs such as

Andrew Sullivan posit that the heart of the argument for marriage lies with conservative values of committed relationships and stable families. That the majority of middle class LGBT

Memphians that make up my sample are concerned with marriage should not suggest that all

LGBTs are concerned with such issues. Nevertheless, the various concerns regarding marriage, adoption, healthcare, discrimination, hate crimes, and other issues, some considered more important than others by individual LGBTs, demonstrates the various lack of protections that affect Memphis LGBT life.

6. Intersections of Activism and Conservatism: The Memphis Movement

The local LGBT movement of Memphis has similar goals and strategies to that of the national movement for LGBT rights. However, several aspects of place make the local movement in Memphis exceptional. As I have shown, in Tennessee, there is not only a lack of legislation benefitting LGBTs, but also proposed anti-LGBT laws that attempt to block any sort of gains that might occur. But Tennessee LGBTs, straight allies, and activists are not passively enduring such injustice. In recent years, the push for LGBT rights in Memphis and Tennessee has increased. The organization on the forefront of challenging anti-LGBT legislation in the state is the Tennessee Equality Project (TEP), an LGBT organization founded in 2004 that works on the local level to create statewide change (Tennessee Equality Project). Public officials working for LGBT rights in Memphis include Jonathan Cole of the Shelby County TEP, Commissioner

Steve Mulroy, and attorney at law Susan Mackenzie among others. In this section, I present data from my interview with Michelle Bliss, vice chair of the Shelby County chapter of the TEP, who

32 gives her perspective on LGBT movement challenges specific to Memphis, as well as how the

TEP’s strategies have evolved in light of enduring conservatism and a changing social climate.

Ulmer: How might the Memphis movement be unique in comparison to other

southern cities?

Bliss: I don’t know that we are unique. I think we face, although I will have to say

that religion, race, and politics are so intertwined here, probably more so than

Atlanta, although I can’t say that definitively, it feels like they are more

intertwined here, and the state of Tennessee as a whole being very right leaning, a

very strong presence in the evangelical movement of course with the Southern

Baptist Convention and LifeWay being the publisher for all the evangelical

materials in Nashville, I think that we have probably more organized opposition,

and so we have to be more organized, more proactive. But I think the struggle is

the same everywhere. It’s the struggle to be seen, and it’s a struggle to be seen as

people and not as ‘that gay person.’ Or as my neighbor, my co-worker, and

accepted for that (Appendix E).

Bliss notes the deep-rooted and intertwined nature of religion, race, and politics in

Memphis as well as other areas of the South. Extremely organized, well funded opposition coming from religious right organizations that already have infrastructures in place allow such groups to respond quickly to what they consider their “moral” prerogatives. This is one aspect of place that influences the local and state movement, though the basis of the nationwide struggle remains the same and in line with broader social movement goals. Bliss also mentions a

“feeling” about the conservatism and entangled nature of religion, race, and politics. While

33 feeling and perception do not always fully reflect reality, they may be driving strategies that affect how the movement operates.

Bliss continues on the challenges specific to Memphis, discussing the role of race in the local movement.

We have additional challenges in Memphis because we have challenges in the

African American community gaining acceptance. It’s sometimes very difficult to

outreach to that community because there is a large black church movement that

does not support LGBT rights among their own community…Sometimes it’s seen

as a white male movement, and it’s not (Appendix E).

The movement in Memphis, with a majority black population and its history of civil rights, is often marked by racial division within the city at large. As Bliss shows, the perceived

“whiteness” of the movement may contribute to the lack of, or perceived lack of, involvement among African Americans. Again, perception of the reality of place and space shapes the way the movement functions as much as actuality. Two perceptions are at work in Bliss’s statement: black people’s perception of the movement as white along with white’s perceptions of the unwillingness of blacks to participate in the movement. Often, the reality of the movement is more complicated than such perceptions allow, with a few outspoken black leaders obscuring the kind of work that African American churches do. The next chapter delves further into the ways

LGBT issues function differently in black and white communities, along with the ways diversity issues have been addressed within the local community and movement. The legacy of the Civil

Rights Movement in Memphis and how it influences the local LGBT movement will be discussed in the final chapter.

Along with race, the conservative social atmosphere of Memphis influences the movement. This environment differs from southern cities like Atlanta, whose motto has been

“the city too busy to hate” for over half a century. This is part of the city’s progressive image that began developing during the civil rights movement and is now reflected in Atlanta’s active

LGBT community and movement. Bliss responds to the question of how Memphis differs from more progressive southern cities and the ways such differences shape the movement:

Some of that is, I think, entrenched Old South thinking. You know, we are on the

border of Arkansas and Mississippi. We are surrounded by rural counties. Which,

so is Nashville, but Nashville has positioned itself differently and there’s also a

large art scene, which, even though it’s country music, you are talking about

people who are artistic and progressive and probably more familiar or more

comfortable around people of other sexual orientations and gender persuasions

(Appendix E).

While Memphis and Nashville are similar in their mixed rural and urban nature, and both have sizable art scenes, Nashville lacks the sort of Delta history that continues to define Memphis. But like Nashville, Memphis is also a sort of liberal pocket within an extremely conservative state, consistently voting Democrat while the rest of Tennessee goes Republican (Ross). Like

Memphis, southern cities and college towns including Fayetteville, Arkansas and Athens,

Georgia, which have become the seats of activism in those southern states, have strong art scenes and a class of alternative, often educated people that have helped develop those local movements. These southern cities exemplify pockets of liberalism within largely conservative states.

Despite conservatism posing some challenges in Memphis, Bliss says that movement advancement depends on reaching out to people who otherwise might not become involved:

There are progressives in every small town everywhere. There are people who

don’t go with the status quo. And part of our challenge, and part of every equality

organization’s challenge, is getting them involved. Because you have to shake

them out of their comfort zone sometimes—‘Well, yeah, I’m gay and in a small

town, but everybody knows me and my family, so no one bothers me.’ Well, the

guy in the next town may not be so lucky. But that’s the kind of thing that’s

always a challenge. I think that’s all over the South (Appendix E).

Bliss’s contention about small town southern gay life around Memphis goes along with what Daneel Buring writes about the city’s lesbian and gay history from the 1940s through the

1980s. According to Buring, “what appears to distinguish the Memphis lesbian and gay experience in terms of Southern culture is the force of social conservatism which keeps Southern lesbians and gay men from getting involved or ‘rocking the boat’” (226). Indeed, as Bliss points out, even getting LGBTs involved can be a challenge. While Buring’s perspective is contextualized by a decline of LGBT activism in Memphis beginning in the nineties, since then, the movement has certainly grown, and activism has been on the rise largely due to the changing social environment, according to Bliss: “I think we (TEP) are more pro-active now, and I think the climate, it’s easier to be proactive now than it was to be ten years ago” (Appendix E). On the national level, with gains like the potential end of the Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA), the repeal of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell,” marriage for LGBTs in several states including Maryland most recently, the political landscape is quickly evolving. Bliss says she envisions “a whole new set of battles” for TEP in the future: “I don’t see us going away, although my ultimate goal

36 would be for us to be completely irrelevant, and for us to be able to quit doing this and just lead our lives” (Appendix E).

7. The Queer South: Why LGBTs Choose Memphis

In an article entitled “Should Gays Leave the South?,” University of Memphis student

Kyle Luebke responds to a common notion that places blame on LGBT southerners for choosing to live in such an intolerant region as the South; “They can’t understand why we won’t pick up and move to places where we won’t be fired because of our sexual orientation or gender identity; and they can’t understand why we stay in states where religious leaders and politicians are able to spew vitriol, lies, and hatred openly about our community” (Luebke). Luebke goes on to say that he considers Tennessee home, and that simply retreating to a more progressive area would be cowardly; “I see the South as having the potential to be a haven for LGBT people, and I am thankful that there are people in my life who have stuck it out, fought the good fight against the constant barrage of hatred and discrimination, and who strive to make an impact for our community each and every day” (Luebke). Despite the challenges that come with LGBT life in

Memphis, most queer Memphians do not aspire to leave. In fact, the South continues to be the number one migration destination for internal migrants, and LGBTs are no different (“Map: U.S.

Migration Flows”). Data from the United States Census Bureau also show that the South is home to the greatest number of same-sex couples with children (Tavernise). LGBTs enjoy Memphis for many reasons, including the business opportunities, diversity, its size and close proximity to other cities, the hospitality and “down home-ness,” the food, music, arts, history, education, and slower pace of life, just to name a few. Others mentioned wanting to stay and help the city

37 become a better place for future LGBTs. Below, LGBT Memphians offer their perspectives about what they like about their city and the South, along with some of its downfalls.

Martavius: I guess my philosophy in life is if you want to see change you have to

get up and do something about it...I truly believe in that, so I wanted to stay and

help Memphis build…The only thing I can really say about the South is that I get

the whole generosity, for people that I know from other parts of the country, they

really respect southern hospitality. And that’s one thing I notice and I’m like,

well, that’s a good thing. In Memphis, other than just typical food, music, you

have to decide. There’s good arts, culture, there’s good education here, some good

agencies. We have some wonderful hospitals—St. Jude…there’s some good

agencies here and a lot of people don’t, you always hear the negative things, but

there’s good things in Memphis (Appendix I).

Martavius covers a variety of perks about Memphis: the hospitality, arts, culture, education, and major businesses. He also feels that Memphis needs a lot of work. His goal of helping Memphis progress is reflected in the service he contributes to several organizations including the MGLCC, Planned Parenthood, and TEP. According to Martavius, “People like to runaway to the big cities like Atlanta, which is fine if you have opportunities, but some people have to stay behind and help build the city up…You need very intelligent, motivated people to stay to help Memphis build and not just be number one in crime, number one in whatever”

(Appendix I).

Others, like Sara, a student at the university, also want to make Memphis a better place, although she has a complicated love/hate relationship with the city:

I love Memphis, I’m not really sure why. It feels the most place like home.

There’s no real tie to Memphis whatsoever, but, at the same time, I feel this

connection to Memphis. I want to stay in Memphis to try to make it a better place.

As far as liking it, I despise it. I want to see it become something better. Until that

happens, I hate Memphis (Appendix N).

While it sounds like Sara likes Memphis overall but hates certain aspects of the city,

Eddie, a bank teller of Memphis offers a more upbeat narrative:

The biggest thing that I like about Memphis is that there are so many

opportunities, because you have different outlets for your career, your

professional life, your personal life, your spiritual life. There’s a diverse group of

people any group you go, you’re not always going to see the same type of person

everywhere. And there’s just so much to offer here to me. I just love it. It’s hard

to put it in words because its so..it’s almost a perfect size. Not a lot of people, not

too small, sometimes it can feel like it, but I love it. A lot of people don’t but I

love it to death (Appendix O).

While Eddie appreciates Memphis’ opportunities and diversity, Mike, a higher education administrator, points out the good food and friendliness, and also highlights some of the city’s paradoxes:

Would I leave the South again? I don’t know. Maybe. I’m pretty entrenched now.

I like the South! I love the South, obviously, but you do, when you go to places

that are more open and accepting, you do feel that difference. I love the food,

can’t you tell? The down home-ness of the South, which is kind of funny because

it’s a dichotomy, too, because in the gay community, at least in the male gay

community more often, one of the things I despised was the elitist snobbery, but

that extends from the elitist snobbery in the South. I mean it’s kind of, like I said,

a dichotomy of two different worlds. But, anyway, the relaxed nature, the friendly

nature, that’s probably it in a nut shell…I’ve been to certain places where people

just aren’t nice. So the niceness is the thing. And the laid back-ness (Appendix

M).

“Feeling the difference” of social attitudes when traveling or living in certain areas outside of the

South was common to several of the LGBTs interviewed. While Mike points out a genteel nature of Memphis that is characteristic of the South, at the same time, there is the “down home-ness,” the sincere, kind southern way that makes the region beloved for so many.

Like Mike, Reverend Paul Eknes-Tucker of Holy Trinity in Memphis talks about the difference in social atmosphere of places outside of the South, having preached in churches across the United States. Being from Birmingham, Eknes-Tucker also considers the South home and enjoys living in Memphis:

Coming back to the South is kind of like coming home…It’s always different in

parts like Minnesota which has legal protections for GLBT folks that are much

greater than places like the South, and where people are much more integrated

into the fabric of community as just a part of it, so it is interesting to be back in

the South again where you have to take a step back and say, ‘OK, this is not quite

the same,’ although I’ve found Memphis to be a great place to be (Appendix G).

8. Conclusion

LGBT life in Memphis is marked by many paradoxes. While spaces of the city are inviting to LGBTs, others are less inviting, or perceived as such. The MGLCC is one space that has contributed tremendously to a sense of community among LGBTs in Memphis, and the environment surrounding its location in Midtown sustains the growing LGBT movement in the city. While Midtown is an open queer space, other parts of the city might require or encourage certain identity negotiations that influence daily LGBT life in Memphis. It is important to note the differences involved in transgender life to show the various issues concerning LGBT rights and the ways that place shapes transgenders’ lives. A range of issues is being addressed by the local Memphis movement, which faces several place related challenges including organized religious opposition and conservative politics. However, the movement has been growing and developing since the early 2000s, with the start of the Tennessee Equality Project (TEP) in 2004, which introduced a Memphis city ordinance and helped defeat the “don’t say gay” bill in recent years. I have demonstrated the importance of place by exhibiting some of the ways activism and conservatism have intersected within the local LGBT community and movement in Memphis.

III. BLACK AND GAY: RACE AND THE MEMPHIS LGBT COMMUNITY

Racially, I don’t feel that there is enough integration…from a lot of people who

are aware of the community, as far as the black perspective goes, they feel that the

white gay community does not understand the black gay community, and that

their issues are not our issues, so to speak (Appendix B).

1. Introduction

Memphis, like other areas of South and country in general, is racially polarized.

Interviewees all agree that there are major divisions among the white community and community of color in the city. Those divisions also exist in the LGBT community despite a common identity as sexual minorities. Some of the divisions have to do with differences in lived experience, often related to white privilege, class, and the social and economic realities of many people of color in the region. According to Michael Arceneaux in “Coming Out: Not as Simple as Black and White,” white LGBT people are “afforded certain privileges that many gays of color still are not” (2). LGBTs of color might face discrimination from multiple sites and via multiple modes, the basis of which are not always clear because of intersections of gender, race, class, and sexuality. This chapter focuses on Memphis Black Gay Pride, class and racial divisions in the LGBT community, and the differences in lived experience of four black LGBT

Memphians as racial and sexual minorities. Throughout, I hope to challenge and complicate notions of homophobia within the black community and African American church, as well as

42 demonstrate the various ways that black LGBTs identify and the political implications of those identity formations.

2. “Every Day is (white) Heterosexual Pride Day”: Memphis Black Gay Pride and Visibility

In Memphis, a city that is majority black, divisions between the white LGBT community and those of color are reflected by the two pride parades of the city—Mid-South Pride and Black

Gay Pride. But Memphis is not an exception. Black gay prides exist in approximately twenty- five cities with substantial black populations, including D.C., Atlanta, Philadelphia, Houston,

Chicago, Detroit, Oakland, Jackson, and New Orleans, areas that remain racially segregated in many respects (Cannick, “2012 Calendar”). These divisions are largely due to differences in lived experience that involve white privilege and the compounded minority statuses of black

LGBT individuals. Martavius, a black gay man and student at the University of Memphis, describes the disconnect that the separate prides in Memphis represent:

…and because of the privilege, you know, that’s why there’s a separate Pride. We

have Black Pride which is coming up and you have Mid-South Pride, which

people from the African American community call ‘white pride.’ Now, if they

actually called it the ‘white pride,’ there would be a riot, so that’s a type of

disconnect (Appendix I).

Martavius’ statement brings up an aspect of “whiteness” that is important to address. Of course, the idea of a “white pride” celebrating LGBT identity is not only ridiculous because it sounds more like a celebration put on by the Klan, but also because white people do not “feel” their race the same way that black people do, as it is not made apparent in their daily lives. In this

43 way, the invisibility of whiteness is functioning to render invisible blackness, or black gayness.

According to gay black scholar Devon W. Carbado,

…when I enter a department store, my ‘different’ identity signifies not only that I

am black and male, but also that I am a potential criminal. My individual identity

is lost in the social construction of black manhood. I can try to adopt race-

negating strategies to challenge this dignity-destroying social meaning. I can work

my identity (to attempt) to repudiate the stereotype. I might, for example, dress

‘respectable’ when I go shopping (193).

Carbado proceeds to show how white people, especially white, heterosexual men, do not have to think about employing such strategies or working their identities in such ways. According to

Carbado¸ “Every day is (white) ‘Heterosexual Pride Day’” (206). While Carbado’s analysis refers to heterosexual whites and heteronormativity more generally, analysis of difference not across race, but mainly across sexuality, that is, between black gay and white gay people, sheds light on the affect of white privilege within the LGBT community and movement in Memphis.

White gay privilege may have a significant impact in rendering blackness within the movement invisible and may also facilitate the hypervisibilty of African American opposition within the movement.

Black Gay Prides are important because they allow LGBT African American’s visibility within an LGBT community and movement in which they are so often rendered invisible (Han

51). According to social and political commentator and black lesbian Jasmyne Cannick, autonomous black gay prides represent a disavowal of white queer norms, and that, “while most pride celebrations celebrate one's sexual preference, for black gays they celebrate much more.

They are cultural celebrations that affirm and empower a community of invisible people in a

44 climate of hostility from pastors, elected officials and sometimes our own family members”

(Cannick). Below, black LGBT Memphians expand on this perspective as they acknowledge

Memphis Black Gay Pride’s significance within the African American LGBT community.

According to Jermaine, a black, gay twenty-four year old material handler at Fed-Ex:

I definitely agree that there’s a major portrayal of the LGBT community being

this upper-middle class white image, same-sex attracted image, that lacks

visibility of other perspectives, or in depth of the minorities. You look at Logo

[queer TV program and website], a good number you see on Logo as soon as you

click on it are these vacations, spas where you see a bunch of white gay couples

going to Cancun and Paris and all the—it’s almost being portraying that it’s all

about living the fabulous, white life, but that’s just one of the things that’s doing a

great disservice, but it’s crucial more than ever to have black gay images out there

just for the sake of getting the black gay community to be a part of or feel like

they are a part of the community…For the time being I think it is [important to

have a separate Pride]…at least it helps to get us to establish and to acknowledge

that we are black and gay and that we should not be ashamed of that, that there is

nothing wrong with that (Appendix B).

Jermaine shows the importance of black LGBT visibility in the midst of white, specifically white, wealthy, LGBT images that pervade the media and other outlets. Black Gay Pride is significant because it allows people to openly celebrate the fact that they are black and gay and to take pride in that. It allows community when black gay people might not feel like a part of, or are excluded from, the LGBT community at large.

AJ highlights further some positive elements of Memphis Black Gay Pride:

The parade. Coming together. The coming together would be the positive.

Because we are so, I wouldn’t say we are divided, but the only time you see that

many black people together is when Pride happens, or if they’re going to the club.

But I guess the unity for standing up for what you believe in or who you are, and

if they could just add some other positive it would be even more better (Appendix

H).

AJ does not bring up black-white divisions, but the importance of African Americans uniting when they rarely have the opportunity, according to AJ. The coming together, just the physical presence of black LGBTs makes a statement that is especially important by celebrating and rendering visible being black and gay. That there are aspects of Memphis Black Gay Pride that could be better, according to AJ, brings me to a discussion of a black middle class politics of respectability as reflected in interviewees feelings about Memphis Black Gay Pride.

2.1 The Politics of Respectability: Class Divisions and Memphis Black Gay Pride

Jermaine and AJ both describe the black pride events as rather risqué, with an atmosphere of debauchery. Indeed, last year’s 2011 Memphis Black Gay Pride was themed “Sin City” and featured exotic dancers along with wet t-shirt and “sexy underwear” contests (“Memphis Black

Gay Pride”). The LGBT African Americans interviewed, the majority of whom were middle class, expressed a preference for Mid-South Pride, which includes participants of all races and ethnicities and has a more toned down sexual atmosphere. This may be due to a long standing, middle class black “politics of respectability” being at work. According to Evelyn Brooks

Higginbotham who writes about the black Baptist women’s movement from 1880-1920, emphasizing manners, morals, cleanliness, and sexual purity through a politics of respectability allowed black churchwomen to counter racist images of themselves as “immoral, childlike, and unworthy of respect and protection” (186). Such identity working signified self-esteem and racial pride during an era when negative stereotyping and caricaturing pervaded films, school textbooks, art, and newspapers (188-189). Today, disparaging stereotypes of black people persist, and gay blacks in particular might feel more pressure to engage in this type of respectability politics. The middle class black LGBTs interviewed describe the sex and partying marking Memphis Black Gay Pride to be undesirable and unnecessary. They may be working to counter deviance and stigma attached to their sexuality as black as well as the deviance and stigma attached to their sexuality as gay. I present data from the black LGBTs, all of whom have attended Black Gay Pride at some point, and aspects of the celebration they consider negative.

Jermaine: I’ve participated in both (Mid-South and Black Gay Pride). I didn’t

participate in Mid-South this year, unfortunately, because I had to work, but I

heard that it was one of the best ones yet because it was truly integrated. It was

black, white, you know, all the colors together, and I think that was one of the

greatest accomplishments. But I do prefer that one (Mid-South) over the Black

Gay Pride because, like I said, you know, unfortunately a lot of the black gay

scenes and black gay aspects of Memphis, including Black Gay Pride revolve

around sex and all those simplistic things. Even down to the flyers, you look at

the flyers, the first thing you see is some guy with an oiled up six pack and some

girl with a bikini on, and it’s just, like, all about selling sex. But we do have

functions during Black Gay Pride which are truly emotionally and mentally

empowering (Appendix B).

Jermaine prefers the diversity of Mid-South Pride and rejects the sexual content of Black

Gay Pride, which he considers a reflection of the black gay community of Memphis as a whole.

Jermaine distances himself from such overt sexuality and “selling,” as he may be concerned with keeping up a “respectable” image that Black Gay Pride does not maintain. However, as he expresses earlier as well, Black Gay Pride is not altogether negative as it offers events that foster pride, belonging, and self-esteem within the African American LGBT community.

Like Jermaine, Eddie appreciates the diversity of Mid-South Pride, but does not mention the sexual content. Instead, he is more concerned with its exclusion of other races and ethnicities:

It’s kind of rough because I brought a white friend one time and we just got

constant stares and constant looks and it’s like, it’s just another person, and I

didn’t realize it was going to be such a big deal because, you know, a lot of

people, they work with different races, but when it comes to the club it’s like,

‘This is my club’ like, ‘Why are you here? We don’t come to yours.’ And I’m

like, this is different, not 1960, so anybody can come in… (Appendix O).

Eddie and the other black LGBTs’ perspectives reflect those of a younger generation, as all

African Americans interviewed were in their twenties. As a result, their comfort with and desire for diversity may be attributed to their growing up in an era of decreased racial tension.

Moreover, Eddie and Jermaine’s sentiment is particularly middle class, as they are more likely to have been exposed to whites and other racial and ethnic groups than the overwhelmingly black working class crowd that attends Black Gay Pride. Working class blacks are more likely to live in hypersegregated communities and attend segregated schools while Eddie and Jermaine may

48 have experienced greater diversity at work or school. Working class blacks also have a need for separate, private spaces that are in-group and function as sites of decompression from dealing with constant and damaging white racial microaggressions in public and on the job all week.

Like Jermaine and Eddie, AJ considers some aspects of Memphis Black Gay Pride unconstructive:

It’s crap. It’s crap. We are so stuck in, we are so stuck in drinking, having random

sex, getting high, we are so stuck in the negative aspect—not the negative—but

just one side of this life or any life that you live. It’s redundant. You know, they

do the same thing every year, every year, every year, every year, and they never—

Black Gay Pride in Memphis anyway—because I’ve never been to any other

black gay pride, but Black Gay Pride in Memphis, they don’t touch on issues that

we should know about. You know, they don’t have panels about AIDS or STDs or

transgender community. They just want to party, have sex with each other, drink,

and get high, from what I’ve experienced anyway, and the reason that I’ve

experienced it, because I was with them at one point doing that, but as I’ve grown

all that doesn’t make since to me anymore. You know, I can get high and get

drunk at home for free, you know. I don’t have to go and pay twenty dollars to

watch some girl shake her ass on a pole, you know? (Appendix H).

AJ does not quite suggest that the sex, drinking, or drugs is altogether negative, but that it is a major focus of the parade. She notes the importance of having various panels and services that would educate the community, and is frustrated with the lack of variance in annual Black Gay

Pride events. Several aspects of Mid South Pride, like panels that make the parade seem more like an academic conference promote a “professional” image and may be particularly appealing

49 to the middle class. On the other hand, Black Gay Pride is more about simple celebration than keeping up a certain image. A middle class politics of respectability may apply here, as AJ says she can do the same things in the privacy of her own home, although she is not fully disapproving of those activities.

The “in your face,” sex positive atmosphere surrounding Memphis Black Gay Pride calls for further discussion. When so often sex is divorced from political issues, including LGBT issues, putting sex “out there” makes an important statement that resists the norms of dominant society. Public sexuality forces others to see it and allows freedom of expression that has subversive qualities. The sexual nature of Black Gay Pride may also be a marker of class, since working class people are less likely to be concerned with keeping a “respectable” image than middle and upper classes. Notably, AJ mentions that she has never been to another black gay pride, acknowledging that others, which occur around the country, may be different. Indeed, the style of parade that exists in Memphis may be more characteristic of the South, particularly

Memphis, with the continued marginalization of people of color in the city. According to the

2010 census, in Memphis, 28.6% of black residents live below the poverty line versus 9.6% of whites. Hispanics make up the largest number at 38.6 percent (Charlier 2). The two prides reflect the racial and class disparities that impact Memphis as a whole as well as the LGBT community.

3. “Quare Studies” and LGBT Racial Differences in Experience

Martavius: “…the ‘queer,’ you know, it’s very controversial in the community

because there are some who just hate hearing the word. Like, if we were called

‘punks’ or something, I would be like, Oh, no, I don’ identify with that.’ Because

I didn’t get the queer—I got ‘sissy,’ ‘punk,’ ‘faggot’—I didn’t get ‘queer.’…But

in the South, we don’t typically use, it’s more like California and other regions

that use ‘queer’ or ‘queer studies’ in their community. We use LGBTQ, which

takes a long time, but I can understand because, especially for aging LGBTQs,

that is completely offensive. That is like the equivalent of the ‘n’ word or the ‘b’

word or the ‘f’ word, so that’s another thing about the South, it’s a southern thing.

We haven’t adapted to the whole change, and there is a race component to that,

because queer is typically used by the Caucasian community, the African

American community does not identify as queer” (Appendix I).

Martavius shows the term “queer” to have several limitations. First, there is a generational factor. Because older LGBTs grew up around the word “queer” used as a pejorative, perhaps before the term was attached political significance, they often resist the term. There is also a regional factor. As Martavius suggests, perhaps southerners are further behind, as many have not been exposed to the term in an academic setting or do not know the meaning outside of its derogatory context. Finally, there is a racial component. Black people, Martavius says, do not identify as queer, as it remains a term largely utilized by white people.

As an author of a book about black gay southern life and a black gay southerner himself,

E. Patrick Johnson explores intersections of race, gender, class, sexuality, and region in “’Quare’

Studies, or (almost) Everything I know about Queer Studies I Learned from my Grandmother”

(124-157). Holding that “queer” is a term irrelevant to African Americans, he develops a “quare” theory. The term “quare” makes the distinction from queer, playing on Alice Walker’s concept of womanism versus feminism. Similarly, “quare” accounts for how racism and classism affect how people of color experience the world, where “queer” often fails to acknowledge class and racial privilege. Queer also fails to account for region, with the term “quare” reflecting Johnson’s

51 grandmother’s southern accent (124-125). Along with Martavius, Johnson agrees that “queer” is an insufficient term because it fails to address intersecting factors of race and sexuality. This section focuses on intersections of minority identities and the ways they manifest in the lives of black lesbian and gay Memphians.

AJ, as female, black, and lesbian has multiple minority statuses that interact in her life.

She also has a non-normative gender presentation as a stud, or dominant lesbian. Therefore, she might face discrimination coming from multiple, intersecting points that may not be clear.

According to AJ, however, race does not factor in:

If you put a white stud and a black stud together and put them in to the same

situation, as far as going for the same job, let’s say we have our hair cut the same,

are dressed the same, we have the exact same outfit on, there will be the same

discrimination. Because people are so closed minded, and when I say people I

mean just the general population, people are so closed minded to what

homosexuality is, the fact that we still live very normal lives…(Appendix H).

Though AJ feels that the discrimination she faces comes most often from her masculine, stud gender presentation, which defies conventional norms. But this is complicated by her blackness, along with being lesbian, as those identities are all connected. According to AJ, femme lesbians are more respected because they adhere to traditional gender roles and may not be visibly gay, whereas studs, because their lesbian identity is visible, are attached greater stigma: “Society frowns on homosexuality. They are going to shun you when you can tell you’re gay. You can’t tell unless you dress dominantly…They (femmes) are not as criticized” (Flores).

This shows how intersecting minority identities influence AJ’s experiences.

Martavius, as a black gay male, feels similarly about the role race plays in his life in terms of discrimination:

Honestly, with me, being African American doesn’t really affect me, because I

think I get more of the gay thing, so that personally doesn’t affect me, and I’m not

saying that I never face any discrimination on that, it may be something behind

the doors or something, but that’s probably related to me being openly gay. I

don’t hide it, it’s going be visible somehow, so I’m going to be open. Say if I

wanted to work in the school system—that would be probably an issue. I have

friends who are teachers that aren’t out because they are afraid they would lose

their job, so working around children and stuff, how will people feel about that.

Me being a gay male may influence that, me being a black, gay male (Appendix

I).

Once again, this statement speaks to class as Martavius may have spent more time around different races and ethnicities among the people he works around, perhaps at the university and

MGLCC as a middle class individual. Martavius’ statement also shows how his multiple identities might interact, mentioning that he might not know exactly where discrimination is coming from or if it is actually occurring, as it may be “behind the doors.” Because his sexual identity may be visible, according to Martavius, he feels that he is sometimes discriminated against on that end. However, his blackness is also fully visible. While he says that being black plays less of a role, he also says that he would not want to become a teacher for fear of losing his job, and that his being both black and gay influence that. Both AJ and Martavius seem to point to one aspect of their identity as the culprit of discrimination, which has to do with the way people

53 with multiple minority identities view themselves as well as what society deems their most master status, even though all of their identities work together.

These are only a few examples of the ways multiple minority identities interact in the lives of black Memphis LGBTs. According to several interviewees, because of the challenges that black gay people face, many choose not to “come out,” while others, because they do not identify as gay, feel that there is nothing to “come out” to. According to Benoit Denizet-Lewis who writes on the “Down Low” culture among the African American male community of

Atlanta, black gay men often remain secretive of their sexuality, operating within a black culture that “deems masculinity and fatherhood as a black man's primary responsibility—and homosexuality as a white man's perversion.” Below, Eddie attests to the perceived risks involved in coming out as black and gay:

To me…a majority of the community (black) is going to be closeted because,

maybe you know, sequestered from the rest of their family, their job, church, and

they really treasure those things to where they don’t want to put themselves in

danger, at risk of not totally coming out or not dealing with their sexuality. And

that brings up anger, that brings up promiscuity, and other things like that, and I

have plenty of friends that won’t say like, ‘Oh, I’m out,’ and they are on the

Down Low or whatever, and they do think that white men have more of a

privilege, but to me, you have the same opportunity because you don’t know their

struggle…(Appendix O).

While Eddie shows that many black men remain discreet about their homosexuality because of the things they cherish, such as family and their church life, he also feels, along with the other black LGBT men, that there is still a place for black gay men within African American culture.

According to Eddie, “A lot of my friends that are white got kicked out of their house or they were banned from their church or, you know, their families disowned them, just like the black community” (Appendix O). And according to AJ, “I can’t say that I’ve personally experienced any discrimination from the black community” (Appendix H). These statements go against the common notion of homophobia in the African American community. Too often, the African

American community is blamed for harboring greater homophobia when this has more to do with

LGBT issues playing out differently in black and white communities.

4. The African American Church’s Role in Black LGBT Memphis Life

This section focuses on the role of the African American church in the lives of black

LGBTs, especially in Memphis, with its influential role in the community and history within the

Civil Rights Movement. Jermaine discusses the strength of religion within his community, with its power to lift up as well as bring down. While this narrative transcends region in some ways,

Jermaine’s perspective seems to have a particular resonance in the South. Jermaine feels that religion is one of the strongest factors as to why black LGBT people might choose not to “come out.”

The black gay community is very secretive of their sexuality, homosexuality

specifically. For one thing, we as black people are very religious; we are very

strong in our own religious upbringing. I’m not going to discredit other races’

religious upbringings…We as a black people, our church and religion has always

played a strong figure as far as black upbringing is concerned, because from the

beginning of slavery, the church, the black friendly church was where we

organized in order to establish unity and organize, and that moved down towards

the civil rights era where we basically had leaders such as Martin Luther King, Jr.,

and other ministers were not only ministers but political figures for the black

community, as well. So you take that and bring that forth to this very day, that in

itself shows that our mentality has been based on religion, or the religion we have

been brought forth to believe on…(Appendix B).

In “Quare Studies,” E. Patrick Johnson highlights the sometimes contradictory role of the black church: “just as the black church has been a political and social force in the struggle for the racial freedom for many of its constituents, it has also, to a large extent, occluded sexual freedom for many of its practitioners, namely gays and lesbians” (“Quare Studies” 144). Johnson also shows how black churches may exploit the talents of their gay and lesbian members, those that are deacons, youth directors, or in the choir, while at the same time, explicitly condemning homosexuality. Even though pastors may preach against homosexuality at the pulpit, some are also known to have sexual relations with male members (Black Gay Men 183). Several of those interviewed show that there is still a lot of silence surrounding homosexuality in the black church. For instance, Jermaine says that black churches might want LGBTs there, but “don’t want to know who you are” (Appendix B). Though Eddie attends New Direction, a welcoming, predominantly black church in Memphis, he also says that LGBT issues are generally kept under the radar at his church as well as other black churches:

The thing about black churches is that they are more hesitant on dealing with the

issues of the LGBTQ Community [sic]. If there is an issue that is brought up, then

they'll be likely to mask the issue and generalize it so it won't look a way that's

controversial. (I.e.HIV/AIDS among the Gay African American Male Community

could be talked about as a whole African American issue instead of targeting the

Gay African American Males) [sic]. (Wiley).

Eddie gives the example of the church avoiding issues considered controversial by discussing

HIV/AIDS as a disease that affects the African American community as a whole, with no mention of its influence on black gay individuals. Again, the church is contradictory as they may welcome LGBTs, but refuse to acknowledge their experiences, or might not have the know-how to acknowledge their experiences without being stigmatizing.

In Memphis, the black church has a strong influence and has affected all the black

LGBTs interviewed in some way. Jermaine further demonstrates some of the contradictions in black LGBT religious life, as well as the role that place plays in that.

Memphis is actually home to one of the major Pentecostal religions—Church of

God in Christ, so that church in specific is highly popular among the black

community…so that in itself kind of conflicts with being gay here in Memphis,

because you’ve got this major thing here going against being gay, but at the same

time, you have so many black gay people attracted to that type of church

environment… (Appendix B).

Jermaine shows the strength of Church of God in Christ (C.O.G.I.C.) among black LGBTs in

Memphis, a church that stands firmly against homosexuality (“National Organization for

Marriage”). While some black LGBTs, like Eddie, do find open churches, others are able to disassociate with the homophobia black churches may harbor (Johnson, Black Gay Men 183).

However, most of the black LGBTs no longer attend church in Memphis because of negative experiences or a loss of interest. Along with Eddie, most of the white LGBTs left their conservative religious backgrounds and found welcoming churches. It seems that white LGBTs

57 had easier times finding a new church home. According to Johnson, black individuals critique of national LGBT friendly churches like Metropolitan Community Churches include that “the music isn’t as good” or “the service isn’t ‘black’ enough” (184). In general, because the black church tradition is so ingrained in African American culture, people are often in search of the culturally black experience of worship, even if they fundamentally disagree with messages of patriarchy and heterosexism that might be part of the church.

In Memphis, LGBT welcoming churches remain predominantly white, leaving black

LGBTs with fewer options when searching for a faith community within their culture. It is important to note that though the majority of this small sample of black LGBTs no longer attend church, the black church “remains for some gays and lesbians a sustaining site of spiritual affirmation, comfort, and an artistic outlet” (149). Though there are ample examples of homophobia within the black church, the African American church cannot simply be viewed as a force against homosexuality. Instead, it plays a more complicated, contradictory role in the lives of black LGBTs.

5. Race First?: Black Queer Identity and its Political Implications

An article by Marcus Anthony Hunter called “All the Gays are White and all the Blacks are Straight: Black Gay Men, Identity, and Community” observes the various ways that black gay men conceptualize their identities. The article was written in the context of the debate surrounding Proposition 8 and the suggestion that, along with right wing conservatives, the black vote was responsible for passing the measure in 2008. Hunter suggests that the vote could have also included black LGBT individuals, as questions as to whether black LGBTs considered the issue important politically went unexplored in the discourse surrounding Prop 8 (81). By

58 observing how black gay men position their race and sexuality in terms of their identity, Hunter shows that “there is no singular black gay man,” suggesting that this has important political implications (90). For instance, a black gay person who identifies as black before gay may not consider LGBT issues important. Or, a black gay person may consider quality of life issues such as anti-discrimination more important than issues like marriage. According to Hunter, LGBT rights activists may need to rethink the use of civil rights rhetoric in appealing to the African

American community, an issue that carries much weight in Memphis, as I address in the following chapter (90). Though the identity formations of Eddie, Martavius, AJ and Jermaine expressed do not privilege one identity—black or gay—over the other, they have different ways of conceptualizing and performing those identities:

Eddie: I don’t do one more than the other (black or gay) because, like, I always

say at the end of the day I’m just Eddie. So, it’s like, not a lot of label I’ve placed

on myself, so a lot of my other friends will always say, ‘Oh, so you know you’re

black first and you do this,’ or ‘You’re gay first and you do this,’ but I’m like,

‘No, ‘I’m just Eddie.’ So I don’t identify more with one more than the other

because at any time, if one happens to come up more, still going to represent for

both because I’m still both. I can’t turn off one and then turn on the other, but I

know a lot of people that are like, ‘I’m a black gay male,’ ‘I’m a gay black man.’

I’m like, ‘It doesn’t matter which you put first, you’re still going to be both’

[laughs] (Appendix O).

Eddie identifies with both aspects of his minority identity equally. However, he shows that people have certain expectations of him as a black man as well as a gay man, and that those

59 two aspects of his identity are often perceived as unrelated. This shows the limitations placed upon black gay people who are often expected to act one way as gay and one way as black.

Martavius: Well, with me, you have to know who I am first. I’m very open to

everything. I love everyone, [laughs], I really do…Some people feel that—I used

to be called ‘Oreo’ or ‘white’ because of the way I spoke, or the way I dress, or

the type of music I listen to. I like S Club 7 (teen pop band) and stuff like that,

and it’s just that I feel more closer to the LGBTQ community because you have

variety in that, black, atheist or whatever, but I do have a strong relationship with

my African American community, there are just issues there at times (Appendix

I).

Here, Martavius seems more connected to the LGBT community, but he also told me that he identifies equally as gay and black. As he shows, he has a strong relationship with the African

American community though there are “issues there at times.” Martavius, too, did not meet people’s expectations of a black man because of his speech, dress, and the type of music he listened to as a gay man, earning him the name “Oreo.” This shows that black and gay is often separated in societal discourse, though black LGBTs do not necessarily separate the two in terms of their identity.

AJ gives a very queer expression of her identity, rejecting categories and labels: “I am who I am. I’m mixed, so I don’t, I’m just AJ. Titles are over rated. Why can’t we be who we are regardless of race, gender, sexuality, etcetera? That’s limiting” (Flores). Like many LGBTs interviewed, AJ rejects the categories placed upon by her by heteronormative society that she considers to limit her ability to simply “be who she is.” This and other statements show that there

60 seems to be a dichotomy between the way people imagine themselves to be and the way society does, which places label upon them.

Though some black LGBTs, because their blackness is visible while their sexuality is not, consider being black paramount, Jermaine does not privilege one aspect of his identity over the other. Instead, he simply states that there is a difference, but that both identities make him “who he is”: “I consider them both aspects of me (black and gay). I don’t identify with one more so than the other. I think the only thing about it is that you are able to see one, and you might not be able to see the other unless you just truly got to know me, but I don’t put one over the other. I think they are just both part of what makes me me” (Appendix B).

These examples show the multiple ways black LGBTs conceptualize their identities, though none consider one to take precedence over the other. Supporting Johnson’s argument for multiple definitions of blackness, they show that sometimes, “black is and black ain’t” (144). A more nuanced understanding of the range of black and gay identity contributes to a better understanding of how LGBT issues operate differently in different communities. As I demonstrate in the next chapter, place has a significant influence on black LGBT issues in

Memphis, as the city’s civil rights legacy shapes discourse surrounding the local movement for

LGBT rights.

6. Conclusion

Black gay prides symbolizes racial division and the ways black LGBTs experience the world differently than whites. A separate black gay pride parade provides an opportunity for visibility among the black gay community of Memphis, one often rendered invisible. A “politics of respectability” shapes the ways middle class black LGBTs perceive Memphis Black Gay

Pride, which emphasizes sex as an important political statement. Differences between black and white LGBT experiences involve the social and economic realities of sexual minorities and people of color in the South, who may experience discrimination on several different levels as intersections of race, gender, sexuality, and class interact. Because of the added risks, real or perceived, involved in coming out as gay in the African American community, many black gay people choose to keep their sexuality discreet. This has more to do with life in a racialized society than greater homophobia in the black community. Moreover, the black church cannot be viewed simply as a force of homophobia, but has a more complicated, often contradictory role in the lives of black LGBTs. Certain expectations of people as black and/or gay mask the possibilities of blackness and render black LGBTs invisible. A greater understanding of the ways black gays and lesbians perform and conceptualize their identities and respond to political issues may be needed to come up with more effective strategies within local LGBT movements.

IV. THE CHURCH AND SOCIAL CHANGE: CHURCH INVOLVEMENT IN THE

MEMPHIS LGBT MOVEMENT

And as Memphis is, the Methodist church on this block may be delighted to have you

and open and everything, and the Methodist church ten blocks away, it’s anathema. You

know, we have Prescott Memorial that’s very open and welcoming and there are some

other, there may be some other Baptist congregations that are “live and let live,” but in

general, you know, the high profile ones are definitely not, although the choirs and organ

lofts are crawling with queers, as is usually the case (Appendix C).

1. Introduction

Vincent Astor demonstrates another paradoxical aspect of Memphis, the religious atmosphere and combination of progressive and conservative churches where one Open and

Affirming (ONA) church that welcomes LGBTs may be located down the street from a condemning megachurch. This can make it difficult for LGBT Memphians to find a church home, though several churches in Memphis have begun to open their doors. Churches like First

Congregational United Church of Christ, Holy Trinity Community Church, Prescott Memorial

Baptist, and St. Mary’s Episcopal Cathedral have become staples in the LGBT community of

Memphis, and several of those are involved in LGBT activism within the church and Memphis at large. This chapter observes the local manifestation of a national phenomenon of religious LGBT activism and church involvement within the Memphis movement. I observe religious opposition in Memphis and the challenges LGBT activists face, the role of the African American church and

Memphis’ history of civil rights within the movement, the ways that secular and religious communities have collaborated on the issue of LGBT rights, and the role of local churches in creating social change.

2. Challenges to the Local Memphis Movement

On a national scale, LGBT activists incorporate a range of strategies that emphasize visibility, diversity, community building, education, and working at the local level with public officials and through the courts to secure laws against hate crimes and discrimination, as well as public policy benefiting LGBTs in the way of employment, adoption, and healthcare. Other tactics involve working with faith communities to promote LGBT rights. Several publications by the Gay and Lesbian Task Force (the Task Force) and Human Rights Campaign (HRC) encourage the collaboration of progressive religious organizations and LGBT activists in combating religious opposition to LGBT rights. The Task Force’s A Time to Build Up, outlines steps in religious-secular coalition building suggested in response to California’s Proposition 8 campaign, and David v. Goliath shows the importance of such strategizing in the face of strong religious opposition (Voelkel, Lindsay and Stern). The HRC’s Religion and Faith Program

“seeks to engage all faith traditions in a deeper dialogue on questions of fairness and equality for

LGBT Americans” and works to build a diverse faith-based movement (“Religion & Faith”).

These types of LGBT religious groups are growing in response to the Christian right, which uses scare tactics and “slippery slope” rhetoric to pit LGBTs against Christians. This section demonstrates how progressive religious and LGBT groups have come together to send a

Christian message of equality in combating such religious opposition in Memphis.

Religious conservatism poses a major challenge to the Memphis LGBT movement. A recent Pew poll ranked the religiosity of the fifty states according to four measures: the importance of religion in people's lives, frequency of attendance at worship services, frequency of prayer, and absolute certainty of belief in God. Tennessee ranks fifth, sixth, sixth, and fourth respectively (“How Religious”).Tennessee has a strong evangelical presence, which makes opposition to marriage equality and LGBT rights in general more likely. Indeed, 81% of

Tennesseans voted to amend the state constitution to define marriage as between one man and one woman in 2004 (Thistlewhaite and Cook 2). In Memphis, this religious conservatism was exemplified by dialogue surrounding a city ordinance that would prohibit discrimination based on sexual orientation or gender identity or expression in the workplace (Connolly).

Starting in 2008, the TEP made two attempts to pass the ordinance, which inspired heated debate. During the discussion surrounding the potential adoption, several city commissioners cited religious beliefs for opposing an ordinance, and many church leaders became involved as well. Commissioner Sidney Chism, who did not vote, said he was “a little bit torn about whether to support this ordinance because I'm an old traditional Baptist. ... I'm not for or against this ordinance, but I'm against discrimination” (Connolly). The most vocal in his sentiments against a city ordinance was Republican commissioner Wyatt Bunker, who said that the proposed measure could be called one to protect “the seven deadly sins with a touch of filth” (Connolly). The fact that personal beliefs were cited so often at the commissioner’s meeting reveals a disregard for the separation of church and state that often characterizes the South’s conservative politics, especially at the local level.

Religious opposition to LGBT rights in Memphis includes many evangelical groups and churches including the Southern Baptist Convention, Bellevue Baptist and World Overcomers of

Memphis, the American Family Association based in Tupelo, Mississippi, and the Family Action

Council of Tennessee (FACT) who pour money into anti-gay campaigns (Appendix C, Appendix

E, Appendix K). For example, in 2006, FACT raised $210,393 during the anti-gay marriage amendment campaign, which was more than any other committee in the race (Thistlehwaite and

Cook 22). Indeed, anti-LGBT religious groups have combined incomes that significantly outweigh those of LGBT organizations (Hyde 120). Moreover, opposition to the LGBT movement is much more diverse than its body of supporters, as various religious institutions that would otherwise be in disagreement unite on their stance against LGBT rights (Campbell 6).

According to the Dean of St. Mary’s Episcopal Cathedral of Memphis, if any church can be said to be heading the anti-gay movement in Memphis, it is the evangelical megachurch of

Bellevue Baptist (Appendix A). Bellevue is a predominantly white church where FACT held a

“Stand for the Family” rally against a non-discrimination ordinance. Pastor Steve Gaines spoke out against a city ordinance at city council hearings, charging that if the measure passed, churches and businesses would be “victimized” by not being able to make “moral” hiring decision if they could not discriminate against gays and lesbians (Thistlehwaite and Cook 22).

Another megachurch in Memphis, the predominantly black World Overcomers Church ran full page advertisements in Memphis’ Commercial Appeal condemning homosexuality (the preacher there, Alton R. Williams, also called Hurricane Katrina “retribution for New Orleans’ embrace of sin”) (Dewan). Of course, such fringe activity exists despite increasingly positive attitudes towards LGBTs. The irony is that these churches do not take a Christian approach to LGBT rights. As Astor posits, another paradox of such megachurches is that they are “crawling with queers” (Appendix C).

Several LGBT activists in Memphis mention the need for greater outreach to the African

American church, which is perceived to pose some challenges to the local LGBT movement

(Appendix C, Appendix E, Appendix K). African American church leaders often feel that their communities have more urgent problems to deal with, such as racial and economic injustice

(Thistlehwaite and Cook 14). Furthermore, some black church leaders hold that LGBT rights and black civil rights are not the same and should not be compared. This sentiment came through at the Shelby County Commission when several black members of the city council expressed concern that LGBT rights and civil rights were being equated during discussion regarding a city ordinance protecting gender identity and expression. According to Addie Hollaway who spoke at the meeting, “We didn’t choose to be black…but when you have a sexual preference, that’s something that you choose” (Connolly). Such sentiment not only ignores the fact that many

LGBTs do not feel like their sexuality was chosen, but also that there are black LGBTs who may want such protections in place.

Because tension arises when LGBT activists attempt to appeal to the African American community by using civil rights rhetoric, especially in a city with a strong history of racial struggle, Memphis LGBT activists often avoid comparing the two movements. Michelle Bliss, vice chair of the TEP, says that she would rather compare the LGBT movement to women’s struggle for rights:

Even though there are some parallels to be drawn between the LGBT fight for

rights and the civil rights movement, it’s a very touchy thing to talk about.

Personally, I prefer to compare it to the suffragette movement. It’s really about

gender bias. It’s really about the idea that if you don’t fit the stereotypical mode

of what your gender is supposed to be, that you’re somehow less valuable to

society…It is more touchy in Memphis because of the legacy of the death of

Martin Luther King. It’s unfortunate, but I think we do walk a fine line in

Memphis sometimes about the words that we choose and the way we describe the

movement (Appendix E).

Memphis LGBT Attorney at Law Susan Mackenzie also mentions the tension that might arise with using civil rights rhetoric in Memphis and perceives black church opposition as a barrier. Mackenzie holds that, for the most part, the city’s civil rights legacy has been an example for the LGBT movement:

I think, overall, the Civil Rights Movement has been a model, has been an

inspiration for the gay and lesbian civil rights movement. I think there are

definitely some significant leaders in the African American community—Coretta

Scott King who from day one has supported LGBT rights, two local leadership—

Ben Hooks and his wife, Russell Sugarmon, Minerva Johnican…who’ve always

been supportive of gay rights and women’s rights and didn’t hide away from it.

You’ve got the other side, the churches, who just keep the same, ‘it’s a sin,’ and

blatant, and often in the church talking about the sin of homosexuality. And so I

think you get a lot of that. I think there’s another group that resents gays and

lesbians comparing their fight to the African American fight for civil rights. I

think they see a real distinction in, ‘OK, you can pass until you tell someone

you’re gay, they don’t know, but the minute I step out of my front door they know

I’m black.’ And so I think there’s a feeling that takes away from them when you

compare the two movements (Appendix K).

Mackenzie shows that while there are several leaders in the African American community who support LGBT rights, there remains religious opposition from a few African

American churches, and the loudness of those preachers seem to obscure the work that other

African American leaders are doing to promote LGBT rights in Memphis. There also seems to be a strong feeling that LGBT rights and civil rights should not be compared by both activists and a number of African Americans. However, what all social movements are about is bringing marginalized people to the center. Civil rights and LGBT rights may be viewed separately, but they are both part of a broader struggle for equality and human rights.

African American religious leaders may find LGBT quality of life issues such as anti- hate crimes and discrimination more important than ones such as marriage, and work with LGBT activists on those issues (Thistlehwaite and Cook 14). That many African Americans churches do not immediately embrace LGBT rights cannot simply be attributed to homophobia. Former

Reverend Cheryl Cornish of First Congregational offers her perspective on why this is:

I just think these issues are complicated church to church. You know, sexuality in

the black community has just a whole different history, a whole different

legacy…I feel the need to go very gently in terms of pointing fingers at the black

church about these issues. I think these issues live differently in their communities

and in their history. We’ve had dialogue in particular with one African American

church on this topic and I think there’s an opening there, but maybe not the

ability, there at least among that church, to make a dive in and say, ‘Oh, we’re

Open and Affirming’ or ‘We’re Greater Light’ or ‘We’re welcoming to gay

people…’ (Appendix F).

African American churches address a variety of different concerns within their communities that might also encompass issues that affect black LGBTs in the way of racial injustice. At the time, issues specific to LGBTs, and whites exclusively, may not be as pressing on black church’s agendas for this reason. An antidiscrimination ordinance for LGBT people may not do anything to address routine racial discrimination and microagression, despite antidiscrimination policies, against blacks. As Cornish contends, LGBT issues do not carry the same meaning within black and white church communities. This shows how the role of place, with Memphis’ conservatism, religiosity, and history of racial struggle, has shaped conceptions and created challenges specific to the local LGBT movement.

3. Memphis’ LGBT Movement and Religious Activism

Instead of dismissing religious activism because of strong opposition to LGBT rights coming from some churches in Memphis, many local activists see the importance of collaboration with progressive religious organizations in spreading a Christian message of equality. Here, I focus on the work of the Tennessee Equality Project (TEP) and the Memphis

Gay and Lesbian Community Center (MGLCC) along with First Congregational United Church of Christ in Memphis.

First Congregational began after the Union army took over Memphis during the Civil

War. The chaplain of the Union army was a Congregationalist, and he founded “Stranger’s

Church” for the Union army soldiers. Stranger’s Church evolved into First Congregational, which maintains a sort of outsider status, especially in light of the church’s progressiveness. First

Congregational’s denomination, United Church of Christ (UCC), was the first to ordain an openly gay man, Rev. William R. Johnson in 1972, and First Congregational gained its official

Open and Affirming (ONA) title in 1991, becoming the sixtieth church in the UCC to do so

(“William R. Johnson,” Appendix F). The ONA distinction grew out of the needs of the congregation, which at that time, was very small and made up of mainly women who wanted a female priest. Two lesbian couples were members, one of which was asked to leave the

Presbyterian church that they previously attended. The question of conducting a service of union arose during that time, and the pastor, Reverend Cheryl Cornish, engaged the congregation

(which maintains autonomy over itself) in an open discussion that resulted in the adoption of the church’s ONA title. The 1990s also marked the national AIDS crisis, which led First

Congregational to dealing more with the gay community (Appendix F).

First Congregational addresses many concerns of the community besides LGBT related issues, including hunger, poverty, and sustainability (Appendix F). Dubbed “First Congo” by its beloved members, the church provides space for the Mid-South Peace and Justice Center,

Memphis Area Gay Youth (MAGY) and Parents, Families, and Friends of Lesbians and Gays

(PFLAG) (Thistlewhite and Cook 8). The partnership of First Congregational with secular groups on the issue of LGBT activism and awareness demonstrates how coalition building between progressive churches and LGBT organizations manifests locally in Memphis. The church’s involvement in the local movement has included promoting a non-discrimination ordinance, increasing the visibility of Memphis LGBTQs, and combating violence against the transgender community.

In 2008, when the Shelby County branch of the TEP first introduced the non- discrimination ordinance that would ban discrimination based on sexual orientation and gender identity or expression in city employment, First Congo offered its front steps for what turned out to be one of the largest LGBT rallies held in Memphis. Also in attendance were straight

71 members of the church, and both Rev. Cornish and Associate Pastor Sonia Louden Walker spoke at the event. LGBT participants were encouraged to “call in gay” to the city council to press council members to support their rights as Memphis residents (Appendix F). The example is just one of the many ways that First Congo has offered constituency and space in the local movement.

In 2009, the MGLCC created a billboard education campaign to increase the visibility of local LGBTs, showing that they are neighbors, friends, family members, pastors, and soldiers.

One in particular displayed “Ministers in support of equality for gay, lesbian, and transgender people,” and featured several local ministers including Rev. Cornish and Rev. Walker

(Thistlethwaite and Cook 19). When one of those billboards displaying a Memphis marine that read “I’m gay and I protected your freedom” was defaced, First Congregational hosted a rally at which several Memphians who appeared on the billboards spoke in 2009 (Bradley). The

MGLCC and First Congo also work together to increase awareness and oppose violence directed towards the transgender community. Several vigils were held at the church in response to a string of hate crimes in Memphis, including the murder of African American transgender woman

Duanna Johnson in 2008 (Moore).

First Congo has been actively involved in the LGBT community and local activism since the early nineties, but other ONA churches such as Holy Trinity Community Church, which formed out of the religious needs of the Memphis LGBT community, have also been strongly involved. Holy Trinity, with a mixed congregation in regards to race and ethnicity as well as sexual orientation, houses Memphis’ Pride offices and maintains a strong partnership with the

MGLCC. The church also helped start two ONA churches in Nashville and Jackson, cities where those congregations were needed (Appendix G). Other progressive churches include Prescott

Memorial Baptist, which was booted out of the Shelby Baptist Association for hiring a female preacher in 1987. The church then left the Southern Baptist Convention and Tennessee Baptist

Convention, later obtaining membership with the Association of Welcoming and Affirming

Baptists (Ledbetter). During the city ordinance debate, the Dean of St. Mary’s Episcopal

Cathedral of Memphis expressed his full support: “I wonder what's next. Is it going to be to discriminate against people with big ears? Is it going to be to discriminate against people with big noses?” (Maki). Other outspoken religious leaders include rabbis from Reform Jewish groups, including Rabbi Micah Greenstein of The Temple Israel, who has spoken at press conferences and events advocating LGBT rights (Thistlethwaite and Cook). First Baptist Church of Memphis, a welcoming church whose motto is “A different way to be Baptist,” emphasizes on its website that “all Baptist churches are different” and expresses regret that often “all Baptist are

‘painted with the same brush,’” stressing its openness towards all people (First Baptist).

Unitarian churches including First Unitarian Church of the River and Shelby Unitarian in

Memphis are also welcoming. The list presented here is not exhaustive, as several churches in

Memphis are beginning to incorporate the experiences of LGBTs.

Church activism helps to bridge a gap between the African American community and

LGBT issues, as black churches and LGBT activists come together on HIV/AIDS awareness and education. Several African American churches in Memphis work to combat HIV/AIDS in their community, including St. Andrew’s A.M.E. church in Memphis, which sponsored a public awareness campaign that featured nine educational billboards on HIV/AIDS (Thistlewaite and

Cook 19-20) and Christ Missionary Baptist Church, which hosted a World AIDS Day Service in

2011 (Batts). First Congregational and Holy Trinity work specifically to break down racial barriers in their churches. First Congregational is recognized as a multi-cultural church, which

73 requires at least a fifteen percent non-white church population. Very few churches in America are multi-cultural, especially in the South where churches remain highly segregated, so gaining that distinction is quite rare (Appendix F).

Memphis LGBT activists see the value in working with faith communities to create a broad-based, diverse movement, getting people involved across racial and ethnic lines. This is especially important in a majority black city with an increasing Latino population, and in a city that remains, like other areas of the South, racially segregated in several respects. Much of the work that breaks down barriers along the lines of race and ethnicity, class, gender, and sexuality begins in the church, eventually influencing the community at large. With strong opposition coming from religiously conservative groups in Memphis, progressive churches play an important role in combating negativity and providing support for the local LGBT community.

4. The Significance of Church Involvement in the Memphis Movement

Though most churches do not “scream it loudly” that they are ONA or welcoming to

LGBTs—they might not be flying rainbow flags or “on the front lines” of the movement—the messages they send are equally important (Appendix F). In this section, we hear from three

Memphis pastors; Andy Andrews of St. Mary’s Episcopal Cathedral, Cheryl Cornish, former pastor of First Congregational United Church of Christ, and Paul Ecknes-Tucker of Holy Trinity

Community Church. The preachers discuss the church’s responsibility within the local LGBT movement, what that work means to members, and how its ideals influence not just the faith community, but the community at large.

On the role of his church in the local movement of Memphis, Dean Andy Andrews of St.

Mary’s Episcopal Cathedral, a progressive church in Memphis, says,

The metaphor that I’m going to use is probably the same that Dr. King used, that

the church is being the tail lights, not the head lights, but the church is on the car

and has moved forward with this vehicle for equal rights…I would say that part of

the church is the engine that’s stirring up behind the scenes. But it’s the LGBT

community here that’s out and making it happen. I’m proud of, and aspire to be

and move this congregation in that direction, too. We just do it slow, more slow,

but it gets there. It’s not radical. It’s not active, but it’s better than the real

homophobic congregations and that I know are filled with gay men and women

and all kinds of issues. I pray for healing for everything (Appendix A).

St. Mary’s Episcopal is a church that works quietly “behind the scenes,” affirming their

LGBT members, creating outlets for them in the church, and raising the conscious of straight members. Like St. Mary’s, churches might have Bible studies on sexuality that show the different interpretations of homosexuality or sponsor anti-defamation workshops that teach youth leaders how to properly nurture teens who come out to them (Appendix A). They might, like

First Congo, celebrate same-sex adoptions among their members by framing a new family’s picture in the church (Appendix K). All are ways churches incorporate the experiences of queer individuals, providing an open space that allows for increased visibility of LGBTs and non- traditional families. Though most pastors agree that their church’s role is not to lead the LGBT movement, most feel that they have a responsibility to meet members’ needs. Former pastor of

First Congregational, Rev. Cheryl Cornish, contends that most of the work churches do is not directly tied to LGBT rights, but is largely symbolic:

In churches, part of what all these fights about ordination, whether it’s ordination

of women, ordination of gay people, you know, a lot of times the fight over gay

rights takes place over ordination, and part of what is happening in a church is

you’re sort of modeling, ‘What does a perfect human being look like?’ you know,

not saying any of us is perfect, but, ‘What does a whole human being, what are

we supposed to be?’ Those are the kinds of questions that really live in your

religious life, your spiritual life. And so part of that, part of the issue of the

inclusion of gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender folks in a religious community is

really modeling that to be gay is not just a person who sins, but we accept them

anyway, that it can be an affirmative human way to be. It can be the way God

wants us to be. And so that’s often the crux of these fights, is who embodies a

whole human being…That’s why these issues in churches become important.

They are very symbolic (Appendix F).

As Rev. Cornish posits, ONA churches do more than send the message, “It’s OK to be gay.” Instead, they affirm LGBTs as “whole” human beings. Though First Congregational has been dubbed the “gay church,” it maintains a mixed congregation, encouraging difference and diversity. That most ONA churches are also racially and ethnically mixed shows that LGBT rights issues are in line with broader goals of peace and social justice in the way of economic, racial, and environmental justice and anti-war goals. Moreover, LGBTs become part of a larger religious community when they join welcoming churches, one in which queer and straight members maintain weekly contact and close ties. Rev. Cornish discusses what the church’s ONA title means to straight members and how attitudes have changed within First Congo during her time as pastor:

Certainly within the church I think for us it’s been a wonderful experience to

name that welcome and to live into it, and at times it’s been a little hard to be

against the grain of the wider Memphis community, but what our church members

have found is that folks who are initially nervous thinking, ‘Oh we don’t want this

label of being a gay church,’ have realized the importance of a church defining

itself as welcoming strangers, and friendships have formed, and loyalties have

formed. You know, what happens is heterosexual people start owning or feeling

the bigotry because it’s their friends that are being talked about, or their church

that is being talked about, and so I think that solidarity has been a very good and

important thing (Appendix F).

The relationships between LGBT and straight members that develop within mixed churches help get straight members involved in awareness in the community.

Another part of the consciousness raising that takes place in churches involves the children in attendance, especially those of non-traditional families. Churches have a responsibility to bring their young members up in a supportive and nurturing environment and to teach them what it means to be a “whole person.” One way that churches care for their children,

Rev. Cornish posits, involves images that are created within the church:

Mary Daily, a famous feminist theologian, made the statement, ‘When God is

male, males are Gods,’ and that also plays for sexuality. If only a heterosexual

person is able to be seen as a Godly person, or a righteous person, or living the

life God created them to live, then gay people are always going to be a little bit

defective, a little bit off to the side, not fully human. So those understandings of

what a good human being, [laughs] or whole human being, however you want to

look at that, is about, those are important symbols. And for children growing up,

for example, if they have same sex parents, to see their family as not abnormal,

maybe not majority, but not abnormal, really starts changing the consciousness of

the kids, and that all starts playing into the legal structures, ‘Who can have

custody of children?, Whose families are OK?, Who can parent?, Who has

rights?, Who has spousal rights?,’ that kind of stuff. It starts bleeding into all

those kinds of legal covenants and, you know, then into the political realm. So

that’s kind of the main work I think that we do in churches that is kind of our

unique work, you know, is that symbolic work (Appendix F).

Things that seem like individual church issues or exclusively theological actually have broader social and political implications. Though church discussion over obtaining an ONA title, offering same-sex commitment ceremonies, or beginning to ordain LGBT ministers largely stays within church walls, it begins dialogue that is equally significant in affecting change within the wider community. Again, Cornish demonstrates how changes in people’s consciousness often start in the church and then begin to influence political structures:

…you really can’t change the political world until you start also changing the

symbolic world. So it really does change your sense of who has authority, who

has power, who has righteousness, who has voice. That’s where I feel the church

contribution is especially significant. It starts changing people’s consciousness on

who matters, who’s human, who can embody God, you know, who’s Godly, so

that’s probably the issue, you know, ‘what kinds of families are acceptable?’, you

know, ‘can two fathers raise a family and can that be a righteous, Godly home?’,

‘is that a home like it ought to be?’ Church models what it ought to be. And so if

you have not changed that in peoples’ thinking, it’s going to be very hard to make

some of these other changes, and so that’s a big part of what we are doing in a

church (Appendix F).

Likewise, Rev. Ecknes-Tucker of Holy Trinity suggests that churches start changing attitudes at a very basic level by alleviating fears of difference and creating awareness that goes beyond the church:

The more that people become aware that gay people are not odd they’re just

different, they’re not evil they’re just different, they’re not sinful they’re just

different, that’s a whole growing awareness for our culture. So, the fact that this

congregation exists and has a sign on a busy street and works with other

organizations and is in the newspaper occasionally, on TV occasionally, I think

that helps to just kind of get that consciousness that is a precursor for any change

or awareness in the community (Appendix G).

Unfortunately, the inclusion of LGBTs within the church and its ranks remains a divisive issue for denominations such as Baptist, Methodist, and Presbyterian, which remain split over the issue in Memphis (“Policies of 47 Christian Faith Groups”). For others who are ONA, like Holy

Trinity and First Congo, the discussion is getting old:

Ecknes-Tucker: It’s really kind of like, ‘Oh, please’ [laughs]. Especially, it’s so

funny to put it into historical perspective, because you hear the exact same

arguments being used that were used for women being included in ordination, for

black people being included in society—it’s the exact same thing. ‘This isn’t how

God expects,’ or ‘This isn’t the way church is done.’ And it’s like, when do wake

up and say we’re just perpetuating the same kinds of things with just a different

group? So, what we don’t learn we’re destined to repeat in history (Appendix G).

Worn out arguments that circulated during past social movements continue to inhibit progress today, as Rev. Ecknes-Tucker demonstrates. Rev. Cornish also feels that the discussion surrounding churches and LGBT inclusion, which First Congo is well passed, has been thoroughly exhausted:

By this stage of the game, we’ve been doing same sex union services, and so

we’re kind of at the point with new staff, we don’t even ask whether they’re gay

or straight. It’s just kind of a, you know, we are twenty years into this now, so

when other churches are discussing whether they should do it or not it’s kind of

like ‘Wow.’ I’m just sorry it continues to be such a discussion point. It just feels

real old (Appendix F).

Though all the pastors said that the Memphis church community has progressed to some degree overall, that progression has been slow. Young people play an especially vital role in the movement’s progression, having come of age in a social climate of increasing positive attitudes towards LGBTs. But, as Rev. Cornish shared with me, there’s a common feeling among younger generations that do not want to go to church because of the bigotry they perceive to be coming from religious institutions. According to Rev. Cornish, faith communities must move forward on these issues if they want to make religion relevant to a new generation.

I think younger people are absolutely sick of our discussion of the issue. I think it

just seems like an old, passé issue and, you know, finally if churches are going to

grow they just have got to move on on this…And, you know, churches, if not for

their own sense of morality or theology or faith or whatever, I think just in terms

of being viable for a whole new generation of people who just have not grown up

with this stuff around them, they’re going to have to open their doors just to be

viable in the next decades (Appendix F).

That the discussion has entered the public consciousness of faith communities and is now considered passé for some offers hope for the future of the LGBT movement. A decade ago, few would have predicted that the majority of Americans would now be in favor of same-sex marriage (Somashekhar and Craighill). It was only twenty years ago that First Congregational was receiving hate calls and bomb threats (Appendix F). Though church progression on the issues of LGBT equality has been slow, it has also been persistent. In Memphis, the work that faith communities do to advance LGBT rights plays a major role, not only within individual churches, but in the community at large.

This chapter observes the importance of place in the LGBT movement, specifically the role that religion plays in the movement of the conservative southern city of Memphis. I show the strength of religion in the local movement, the challenges it poses, as well as the ways religion has been a tool for progress. Memphis’ church movement demonstrates a local manifestation of religious LGBT activism happening at a national level, but takes a particular shape in Memphis. The pairing of faith communities and secular groups that promote equality proves especially vital, and an effective way to raise consciousness and bridge perceived gaps between the LGBT and religious community. In Memphis, with its history of civil rights and racial struggle, racial barriers continue to challenge the movement, though LGBT groups like the

MGLCC, the TEP, as well as progressive churches are making strides in not only diversifying the base of their participants, but also their modes of outreach to the community at large, helping create a broad based movement on the ground in the city.

V. CONCLUSION: THE IMPORTANCE OF PLACE

Memphis is a paradox. LGBTs find pockets of friendly areas, while, overall, the city can be unwelcoming. Memphis maintains both small town and larger city qualities, complicating a rural/urban divide. One of the city’s greatest paradoxes is that it remains one of the few cities of its size without a city ordinance protecting LGBTs in employment in place, though it is also one of only a few southern cities with a staffed gay and lesbian community center, which serves as a queer friendly space. The Memphis Gay and Lesbian Community Center (MGLCC) is an important resource for LGBTs in Memphis, many of whom consider the center a haven within a potentially hostile place. Midtown, where the building is located, has been the center for LGBT activism in Memphis, having an atmosphere conducive to the sort of grassroots, progressive movements that might develop in such areas. Midtown, an artistic, racially diverse district serves as a sort of liberal bubble within the city. The MGLCC is one example of a pocket of openness that allows for freedom of gender identity and expression, while in other parts of the city, LGBTs may face different forms of discrimination, negotiating their identities by “butching it up” if male and effeminate or “toning it down” if masculine and female. These are described as routine experiences that help LGBTs get by with less stress in daily life. Transgender individuals face even greater struggles, having ambiguous genders within a society that emphasizes rigid male and female gender roles that do not account for the variability and fluidity of sex, gender, and sexuality. Misunderstanding and fear leads to greater hostility towards transgenders who make up a small, marginalized, secretive community. The death of Duanna Johnson in 2008 in

Memphis brought national attention to the kind of violence transgenders face nationwide. These examples show the significance of place within LGBT communities and the ways they operate.

Throughout this work, I have attempted to show the inseparability of race, religion, and politics in Memphis, which, in many ways, reflects the South as a whole. Tennessee’s conservatism and religiosity shapes the local movement in Memphis, as different strategies to advance LGBT rights are employed in response to certain challenges. Anti-LGBT legislation that not only stifles progress but also attempts to block the advancement of LGBT rights altogether is one characteristic of Tennessee politics that influences LGBT life in Memphis. I show that a range of issues involving employment, adoption, marriage, healthcare, discrimination, and hate crimes are important to LGBT Memphians, who feel that such legislation is necessary in the face of discrimination and negative attitudes. Some of these issues, such as marriage, are rather middle class and conservative, though considered radical by right wing conservatives who oppose LGBT rights because of supposed Christian values. Though there is a lack of legislation benefitting LGBTs in Memphis and the South as a whole, LGBTs do not wish to leave the city, contrary to the “flight out of the South” myth. Instead, they enjoy the city for its various opportunities, diversity, history, culture, size, weather, food, or want to stay and help Memphis become a better place. They often “feel the difference” in social atmosphere in more LGBT friendly places, which brings to light the need for greater legal protections for LGBT individuals in the South.

The Tennessee Equality Project (TEP) is the main organization addressing concerns of

LGBT people in the state, facing challenges including religiosity, conservatism, and a lack of education on LGBT issues among the general population. Memphis’s history of racial struggle also influences the local LGBT movement. Though the civil rights movement serves as a model

83 for LGBT activism in Memphis in some ways, it also creates tension when the two movements are compared. As a result, civil rights and LGBT rights are often treated separately in Memphis, as reflected in the discussion surrounding a city ordinance protecting LGBTs in employment and the testimonies of local activists. Despite challenges, the movement has been progressing since the early 2000s, gaining momentum after a significant decline in activism beginning in the early nineties (Buring). A changing social climate has made it easier for the TEP to be “on the offense” for LGBT rights in Tennessee.

Separate Pride celebrations, Mid-South Pride and Black Gay Pride, are symbols of division within the black and white LGBT communities of Memphis, which mirrors overall racial divisions within the segregated city. Black Gay Pride is an important mode of visibility within a community often rendered non-existent. Middle class black LGBTs may be influenced by a “politics of respectability,” as several disapprove of the overt sexuality evident in Black Gay

Pride, but still feel that the celebration can be an empowering experience and beneficial to the black LGBT community. Black Gay Pride is subversive in its disavowal of white queer norms and middle class respectability by making sex public and refusing to separate sex from political issues. Black Gay Pride’s lack of concern with maintaining a “respectable” image as opposed to

Mid-South Pride also reflects class disparities among black and white LGBT communities and the Memphis community at large.

Differences in black and white LGBT experience point to the relational nature of race and sexuality and the intersectionality of multiple minority identities. The interviews with black

LGBTs allow for multiple definitions of blackness while also exposing how race “defines as well as confines” African Americans, as shown through the limiting expectations placed upon black

LGBT Memphians (Johnson, Quare Studies 144). The African American church plays a

84 contradictory role in the lives of black LGBTs as a force of social change within the African

American community, but also as an oppressive structure in the lives of black LGBTs at times.

Nevertheless, the black church remains an important force in the lives of many gay African

Americans. In Memphis, while several black LGBTs no longer attend church, others find welcoming congregations, though there are fewer options within the African American faith community. Black gay Memphians may construct their identities in a variety of ways, though none place one aspect of themselves—black or gay—first. The various ways black gay people construct their identities surely has political implications that may require changes in LGBT rights activists’ strategies. Especially in Memphis, activists may need to avoid comparing civil rights and LGBT rights in attempts to appeal to the African American community. They may also focus on quality of life issues such as anti-discrimination and hate crimes before marriage, though this appears to be happening in the South regardless, as same-sex marriage remains a divisive issue in the region.

The church movement in Memphis has developed in response to religious opposition, a local manifestation of a nationwide strategy. Organized religious opposition from megachurches and evangelical organizations poses some challenges in Memphis, as LGBT rights issues are often considered at odds with Christian values. Progressive churches work to combat negative attitudes and advance LGBT rights, getting queer and straight members involved in spreading a

Christian message of equality. While a few black churches participate in the movement, the hesitation of others has more to with the racial environment of Memphis than homophobia, as issues of social and economic justice continue to plague the African American community.

Welcoming churches like First Congregational and Holy Trinity work within their churches to alleviate racial division and have become involved in the local church movement by hosting

85 rallies, working with Pride and the MGLCC, and starting other welcoming churches around the urban South. Other churches have begun opening their doors in Memphis, incorporating the experiences of LGBT people. Such churches help bridge a perceived gap between the LGBT community and community of faith, as many LGBT southerners consider spirituality a vital part of their lives. While progressive churches’ main roles within the LGBT movement are largely symbolic, social change often starts within their walls. The Memphis preachers interviewed show how individual church matters start to influence political structures, encouraging awareness of issues surrounding LGBTs and non-traditional families. Church involvement in Memphis helps to create a broad-based, diverse local movement.

Overall, I hope to have added to scholarship that complicates the idea that LGBT life is somehow stifled in the South, along with notions of the South as backwards and entirely unwelcoming to LGBTs. I also hope to have added to local LGBT movement studies that demonstrate the operation of place and region within the national LGBT movement, showing the intersections of activism and conservatism that define the Memphis movement. While I incorporate a politics of identity, at the same time, I hope to have demonstrated how unstable those constructions are, though significant in providing a unifying force in the collective struggle for LGBT rights. Exhibiting ways that gender, race, class, sexuality, and region interact, I also show that generalizations cannot be made across the experiences and political concerns of lesbian, gay, bisexual, or transgender people. I combat notions of homophobia within the black community, revealing aspects of black LGBT life within a racialized society and the ways LGBT issues might operate differently in black and white communities. This study also indicates the strength of religion in Memphis and the powerful influence of the church on the southern LGBT community and movement. I hope to have shown that “queerness’ proper place” lies in no single

86 racial or ethnic community, political party, church denomination, rural or urban location, or region. More research is needed to fully assess the operation of region within the national LGBT movement, though this study shows that place plays an important role.

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List of Appendices

Appendix: A

Appendix A: Interview with Reverend Andy Andrews

This is the interview with Rev. Andy Andrews, Dean of St. Mary Episcopal Cathedral. The interview was conducted in his church office on November 17, 2011 and lasted about forty-five minutes.

AU: How did St. Mary’s become a gay-friendly place?

AA: Here at the Episcopal Church it’s kind of like an unwritten or unspoken custom that all LGBT folks are welcome, very welcome here and blessed, but it’s not really spoken about largely. I’ll preach about it from the pulpit when I’m talking about other kinds of issues but it’s still, being an advocate, we are more like that sweet southern way, and we all know we have an Uncle Jack who we love or maybe one of our friends has told us we’re gay but it’s not out there trying to change policy, it’s just this slow affirmation. There’s a lot of people here in our leadership who are gay and it’s so accepted it’s beautiful and affirming and we look at it as a gift. But First Congregational, which is in the Cooper-Young district has a ministty that I really admire. Have you interviewed Cheryl Cornish?

AU: I’ve emailed her but have not gotten a response.

AA: Keep on her.

AU: What is your title here?

AA: I am the dean of the cathedral. I’m the chief priest here in charge of this particular church. A cathedral is where the bishop lives, so it’s actually the bishop’s cathedral, and I serve here at his privilege. Dean Andy Andrews is the official title.

AU: Wh